Whisper to a Scream
by Kerridwyn
Summary: Years have passed since the time Sarah Williams spent in the labyrinth. She's made a new life for herself, a good life, a stable, ordinary life. But when a terrible accident upends all that she has worked so hard to build, she finds herself calling out to the Goblin King for help and embarks on a new journey through the castle at the center of the Labyrinth. CHAPTER 3 NOW UPDATED!
1. A Bargin Struck

(A/N) this is my first Labyrinth fic, (though I don't know why, this should have been done a loooonnnng time ago!) I love this movie and have since the first time I saw it, unfortunately I was at the tender age of four and a half so I didn't appreciate most of it until later… ; )

When I discovered that there was an entire section in the movies category just for Labyrinth….well, lets just say that I was swallowed whole by a plot bunny-it didn't matter what it took, I **_had_** to write this! SO I hope you all enjoy it!

P.S. - There are two flashbacks to the movie-both easily recognized, no they're not mine so please don't sue me.

DISCLAIMER: I-regretfully-do not own Labyrinth or any of the characters from said movie they belong to the Jim Henson Company, David Bowie, and lots and lots of other brilliant people who are not me... (obviously, otherwise Jareth and Sarah would have ended up together a long time ago!) but I do own the plot of this story

(The disclaimer you read up until 3:13 february 25th was a test...(bad,bad, badie, bad bad fan fic author: I accidentally disclaimed this to the wrong person...lol)

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CHAPTER I -

**F**ierce blue eyes surveyed the ruins with a lingering gaze. Once, this place had been a circular structure, with a high stone tiled ceiling supported by thick granite columns. It had been a sacred place, unsurpassed in its ability to channel magic, a place where the powerful once came to cast their enchantments and charms.

But that had been many years ago. Now it lay in ruin, crumbling and forgotten.

Or so Aunt Millie had told her when she first brought Sarah to see the it for the first time. It had frightened her then, that wilder scent on the wind like the smell of summer just before a thunderstorm, or the air in December just before it snows. She hadn't understood at the time that it was the scent of magic, where the barrier between Above and the Underground was at its most thin.

What was once the great stone ceiling was now empty air, the only covering now was the shade of the ever encroaching tree limbs. Large chunks of stone, once part of the ceiling, now littered the worn flagstones. The great marble colonnade were now nothing more than worn obelisks, some less than half their original height, so far advanced was their decay. The ornate carvings that had once decorated their surface had long since been worn smooth by the passage of time and the trials of nature.

Sarah Williams took a few cautious steps onto the flagstones, her dark hair was unbound and hung almost to her knees, swirling around her with each step she took.

Much of the floor was covered in a thick green coating of moss, and weeds poked up through the cracks in the stones. Dense black vines obscured what was left of the colonnades, while a heavy canopy of branches overhead effectively shaded the weak afternoon sunlight. The place had a quiet, almost secretive quality.

A few shafts of sunlight still managed to penetrate the ruin, falling in diagonal rays seeming surreal in their whiteness. The streams of light made visible all the dust motes and feathery seed pods that floated so gracefully through the air, purified as they passed by the bright light. All this combined to give the ruins an eerie ambiance of quietude.

This place had become her favorite hideaway since her return from the Underground. Somehow the library, the park, even her own room; none of them held the same attractiveness as they once did. The cares of her old life had paled, no longer as pressing and imminent as they had once been. Sarah found herself withdrawing from the world as her perspective altered, expanding in new ways to encompass a larger view than she had previously thought possible. It wasn't that nothing mattered anymore, it was just that everything seemed to matter equally at once, she saw the tiny connections she had always missed more clearly.

She realized that her friends had seen the change in her. Slowly but surely they had drifted apart. It was easier than she'd thought; she hadn't had many to begin with. Kathy hadn't bought a minute of it though. She'd never pressured Sarah to tell her what had transpired, only continued to watch her with that knowing look.

Of course Sarah had felt guilty for keeping her secret from her best friend. But what could she say-besides the ever popular, _Oh, and by the way, the Goblin King abducted my brother so I had to run through his kookie maze and get him back, that's why I've been weird for the past few years…_

Finally she couldn't stand it anymore. She had to tell Kathy the truth.

It was like breaking a dam inside herself. Once the first trickle started there was no way to stop until it was all out in the open. She told Kathy the whole story, the words pouring from her lips in a jumbled stream. Kathy was quite when Sarah finished her bizarre tale. She hadn't laughed or scorned her as Sarah had feared. She did ask to see the small, red leather book that had caused so much trouble.

How could she refuse? Kathy accepted it quietly and studied it for a few minutes. She hadn't made any move to open it-or read it, much to Sarah's relief-and handed it back without another word.

After that night, they had both put the conversation from their minds. Indeed, Sarah was sure that Kathy had quickly forgotten it.

She, however, was not so lucky.

Try as she might, Sarah couldn't seem to put the Goblin King and his strange labyrinth from her mind. That face had haunted her dreams and nightmares for the past four years.

Kathy had accepted her brooding silences without question. She'd been content to sit and read with her.

Sarah choked back a sob.

_Kathy….what the hell were you thinking?_

Sarah wanted desperately to be angry, to find a target, someone, something-anything!- to blame for the accident. But when it came right down to it, Sarah knew it was her friends pride that had been at fault. She'd pushed herself into riding the stallion; still young and barely green broke, both girls had been strictly prohibited from handling him, but Kathy never could resist a challenge…

Sarah had gone along with it. Kathy knew what she was doing, if she said she could handle it, then surely everything would turn out alright.

Things had been going so well. He'd behaved better than either of them had ever seen him do. Sarah couldn't help but smile at the memory of Kathy's ecstatic expression. She'd been almost done. Ten goddamn feet to the mounting block…But the wind had picked up, almost from nowhere, whipping a empty feed bag across their path.

Sarah saw it. It was strange how time seemed to slip into slow motion; there was time to do anything and everything, and at the same time no time at all. Even as she ran to reach Kathy, she knew she'd never get there quickly enough.

The young stud-colt had gone completely bonkers, he reared, throwing the girl off balance, then flew, bucking and kicking around the arena, trying to unseat her with a tantrum. His efforts worked, sending Kathy soaring over the fence to collide with the unyielding stone wall of the barn.

She'd been airlifted to the local hospital, while Sarah followed behind in Kathy's truck.

The doctors of St. Michael's had adamantly refused to let Sarah see her. Pointing out time and again the hospital's strict admittance policy, but she'd managed to glean from a passing nurse that the chances weren't good. Kathy was in a coma, her back was broken, along with her arm and four ribs, internal damage, the list went on and on. There was nothing left that could be done. That's what the doctors told Kathy's family; she was in God's hands now. There was nothing more that modern medicine could provide, it was up to her to heal, or so they said. The options had been exhausted. That was what they told her.

Sarah knew better, though.

She listened to their words, she nodded her head and agreed in all the right places, but silently she was calculating her chances of surviving what she had planned.

There was _always_ another way, because things were not always what they appeared…

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The air in the immense throne room was still and deathly quiet. The revels of the inebriated goblins had long since ended and there was not a gurgle of ale or a malicious snicker to be heard. The wall sconces had been extinguished hours ago, the soft rays of moon glow were the only illumination as they streamed silently in through the open window. At first glance the cavernous room would have seemed as empty. But it wasn't.

If one took the time to allow their eyes to adjust to the gloom, then they would see a lone figure perched on the throne, it's wooden back in the shape of a crescent. In truth it was a stroke of luck that the figure was alone because the figure belonged to Jareth, the King of the Goblins, and he was at present brooding over his current situation.

Jareth slumped lazily in his seat, one leg draped over the arm of his chair as he tapped a riding crop rhythmically against his booted foot. His eyes seemed to slice through the shadowy gloom that was his throne room.

It had happened four years ago; ancient history really…Yet the girl continued to plague his thoughts. It was ridiculous really, that a mere mortal girl, hardly more than a child really, had managed to so thoroughly turn his world upside down.

To really understand this melancholy monarch you would have to understand the beginning of the story. Jareth had for many centuries been the sole ruler of his kingdom, and was very accustomed to having his own way. As one might imagine, over the years this had made him rather spoilt and he was not a gracious looser. When it came to challenges of reasoning and intellect he considered himself unmatched, so you could understand how being bested by a fifteen year old human girl at a game of his own design had been a sharp knife to his swollen ego. But that was only half of the story. You see, the small, red-leather bound book that had fallen into Sarah Williams possession had more truth to than anyone had guessed. The King of the Goblins really had fallen in love with the mortal girl.

Her refusal to see him as anything other than the villain from her own little twisted faery tale, her refusal to see his last minute offer for what it was, had wounded him more than anyone could have thought. And so he sat, night after night, in the gloom of the empty throne room, until he was exhausted from the storm of thoughts in is mind so that he would be able to sleep with out dreaming of _her_.

No, he decided, this would not end that way. The game would go on, he would find a way to bring her back, then bring her down, just as she had him. She would be made low. Then, and only then, when she had fallen as far as he had, would he be able to bring himself to forgive her. Yes. That would do nicely.

Jareth was no fool. He understood that his failure from the past had been brought about by two things. For one, he had seriously underestimated Sarah Williams. Of all the others in the past who had wished someone away-all of them, without fail-had eventually given up and chosen to accept their dreams. Be it through weakness or greed they had all given in to him.

But not her.

Through every twist and turn she had defied him; refusing to forget the babe and accept the reality of everything she'd ever longed for. In part it was her sheer determination, her refusal to be turned aside from her chosen goal, was part of what had made her so appealing. It wasn't until the last moment, when it was too late to change the game, that he realized just how far that appeal extended.

When he had made his offer, she'd assumed-naturally-that it was only a ploy to stall for time. She had never considered that he might have been serious. She had been too young to understand what he was offering, and had seen him as the enemy for too long to change her perspective in a moment.

His second mistake had been his lack of a true plan. He'd relied on his labyrinth to do his work for him, refusing to accept even the possibility that she might solve it. That was the difference between her and the others. Those who managed to wind up in his grasp tended to be dreamers, and they looked at the problem with a dreamers perspective, relying on instinct, not intellect.

Sarah Williams, however, was nothing if not logical. She had solved his game through pure reasoning, refusing to believe her instincts and choosing that which her mind told her was true.

Jareth understood his mistakes, and he would not repeat them this time. He would keep to his plan, and he this time he would win.

With a thought, a crystal formed on his fingertips, and he couldn't help the smug grin that spread across his features as he watched the image within. It seemed his plan would be set in motion sooner than he had thought.

If only she knew the consequences of the events she was about to set in motion….

…._Such a pity_….

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Sarah drew a deep shuddering breath to steady her nerves. She was ready, and it was now or never time. She was as prepared as she could reasonably expect to be. Her hands were empty of any traditional weapons; she knew that they would do little good against his magic. Karen was out of town, and Toby was staying with a friend for the next two days. Even Merlin had been sent to stay with one of her friends from the barn. There was no one left to come looking, no one left who might get unnecessarily involved.

She wasn't sure what she could offer, but she would think of something when the time came.

There was no mirror in the ruins, and she hadn't brought one. Though she used them to call to Hoggle, Ludo, and Didymus, Sarah was sure that _he_ wouldn't need one. He was quite capable of appearing Aboveground all on his own.

She was ready. It was time. Her nerve was already hanging on by a thread, and Sarah knew that if she waited much longer she would loose it all together and collapse into a quivering heap. Even now the idea was appealing, but she couldn't afford to think about that just now.

_Easy now, Sarah. You can do this you can. You beat him once and you'll do it again, because you don't have any other choice…_

"Now or never," she muttered. She closed her eyes before she said the final words, afraid that nothing would happen, and afraid that something would.

"…Alright, Jareth, I admit it; I need you. Please come out…"

Now that she thought about it, Sarah wasn't quite sure how to call to him. Was there a protocol for this, or was merely speaking his name enough to get his attention? She certainly wasn't going to wish anyone away to him to bring him back.

She waited for a few minutes, eyes squeezed shut, afraid to see the results of this-probably stupid-endeavor. A few moments more, and she was starting to get impatient. Where was he? Knowing him, she would have thought that he'd jump at the chance to humiliate her, and yet…nothing.

"Jareth? Are you listening? I need you!" she called again, louder this time.

Sarah sighed. Unsure of what she had really expected. It had been four years; he'd probably forgotten her by now. She would have liked nothing more than to simply go me and forget the whole silly idea, but the memory of Kathy lying prone in a hospital bed seemed burned into her mind.

"Jareth! I know you can hear me, so don't bother pretending you can't!"

Still, no response.

Alright…here's to hoping this isn't the last thing I do… "Jareth, I wish you would come here and help me help Kathy, right now!" the whole thing came out in a single hurried breath.

Sarah sighed again. Perhaps it was better this way. There was no telling how he would twist her words to his own gain… She turned and strode through the rubble towards the path back to town.

There was only one step left until she would be out of the ruins. It was faint as it drifted to her, as though from far off in the distance, so much so that she almost missed it. The gentle breeze that had cooled her on the walk up to the ruin turned feral, wilder, catching at her clothes and whipping her hair across her face with startling ferocity. That's when she sensed it; that magic scent, it tasted of summer storms, and candle smoke, and things that were not but she knew had once been dreamt of. It was unique…and uniquely Jareth.

_Oh dear…_

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(A/N) -Well?! How did you like it?! Tell me!! Review me!! You know I live for it!!! Seriously, this is one of the few things I've ever written that I'm really nervous about…gimme some feedback


	2. You Sure Got His Attention

(A/N) I hope you guys really like this so far. I think my other two fic's are going to be put on hold while I work on this one. I just got through watching _the _movie again (My 42nd time to be exact!! ;) and I can't believe I didn't write this sooner…they left soooo many issues to be resolved!!!!

DISCLAIMER: What part of "_Thou shalt not steal_," didn't I get? ;-)

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CHAPTER II - "You sure got his attention"

Sarah had been so sure she was ready, she was prepared. But now, when the time came and he was standing before her, she found it was all she could do to stand trembling, her gaze fixed on the ground at her feet.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, her gaze traveled up his imposing figure. He still wore the same black field boots, braced shoulders width apart. Upward still; grey breeches that were undeniably tight, leaving little to the imagination. Her eyes darted higher still, a dark mahogany waist coat, cinched low to expose a pristine white poets' shirt. It was left open at the collar and she could see the crescent shaped amulet that rested against his alabaster chest.

It was his expression that frightened her most. His face was still the same one that she remembered from that night, the same face that had haunted her dreams and nightmares. His mouth was fixed in that same arrogant smirk that she had just known he would be wearing and his mismatched eyes seemed to burn with a cold fire.

That face was shockingly familiar, with his wild platinum hair and calm gaze.

But however imposing, however frightening, she had summoned him here with her own words; she was past the point of no return and there was no changing her mind now.

The sultry sound of his voice cut right through the cry of the wind.

"Hello Sarah," he drawled. She forcibly repressed a shudder at the sound of his voice, "I see your patience has not improved with time" he grinned, "…such a pity."

Faster than she would have thought possible, he had moved to stand behind her. He brushed his gloved fingers lightly over her shoulder as he leaned down to her. She could feel his warm breath on her neck. "You of all people should know that these things cannot be rushed." He chuckled softy.

It was amazing how much he could place into that one sound; scorn, arrogance, pride, pity, and that know-it-all smugness that was purely Jareth. It took talent to be that expressive with nonverbal sounds. She told him as much.

"Well, I've had a long time to practice. But come now, Sarah. You haven't called me here for the simply for the pleasure of meeting…oh, what was her name again? Ah, yes; Kayla."

The apprehension that had been growing inside her was replace with cold fear, twisting in her gut like a living thing, and turning her blood to ice in her veins. There was her mistake. She should have known, she should never have given him a name.

Somehow she knew that she had just dug her own grave and it was only getting deeper… "She's in the castle isn't she?"

"Oh, Sarah. I would have thought you'd have learned better by now. What did you think the result of this little folly would be?"

He was so goddamn condescending. Sarah felt the first spark of her temper coming to life, "I thought I could talk to you like a rational person, that we could make a deal." she snapped.

"A deal is it? And why should I make any sort of bargain with you? What could you possibly have to offer that I do not already possess?"

Sarah ground her teeth, and was amazed when her voice came out calm and level. "Just hear me out, Jareth. Kathy is dying. You already know that. I want you to save her. You have the power to reorder time; I want you to change it for her, give her back the time she lost."

"And if I were to grant her….reprieve…. What would you offer me in return? Why should I concern myself with your problem? Why should I release her from my possession?"

Sarah swallowed thickly, "Wha-what…would you want?" God!-that was opening a can of worms so large Sarah was loathe to even think about it, but there was no other choice. She'd screwed it up in the beginning; he held all the cards now and he was well aware of it.

He was silent for a few moments, seemingly considering her offer. He pursed his lips and tapped the riding crop against his thigh as he spoke, "You wish me to grant her lost time, and her freedom; two boons, I think, so I shall ask for two in return. Fair enough?"

That was stretching too far, "What kind of favors?" she asked after a moment. There was no way she was giving Jareth two, _unnamed_ favors, that would just be stupid.

"Does it really matter, Sarah? What wouldn't you do to ensure her return?"

Sarah closed her eyes and did her best to hide her wince. He had her. And he knew it. He left of the tapping of the crop, his eyes locked with hers as he scrutinized her body. Sarah's mind reeled under the implications. He could ask for anything-_anything_-and she would have no choice but to accommodate him. She dared not even think about the endless possibilities of what he might request.

His gaze raked lazily over her form, as he continued to appraise her with that arrogant smirk of his, "I thought as much. The way I see it, her time belongs to me. You wish me to give up something rightfully in my possession, yes?" Sarah nodded mutely, "Very well. But I want that time back."

"How-"

"You, Sarah. Your time. You could take her place."

…_it's only forever; not long at all…_

He stepped closer as she sunk to her knees on the harsh stones, as standing was now too much of an effort. "I might even make it easy on you."

…_Not long at all_…

"I don't have any other choice, do I." she didn't say it as a question.

The wind picked up, howling as it tore through the trees, then was silent. Jareth smiled, "It's done."

"That's it? As simple as that."

He grimaced mockingly, "You wound me, my dear. I said it was done, and so it is. You accepted my offer."

Sarah was silent as he spoke. The price wasn't important. She had been careless, naming Kathy in her call, now all that mattered was bringing her friend home. "Very well. I-I accept your terms."

A feral grin split his features. "Very good. Now, because of your selflessness, I will not require the eternity you are no doubt imagining. Instead, you will be my guest for the length of one month, residing in my kingdom for thirty-one days from blue moon to blue moon. During that time, you will be in my possession. You will be one of my subjects and will treat me as such, is that clear Sarah?"

She nodded, unable to speak. You can't speak of course when your throat has gone as dry as the stones you're kneeling on.

"If you attempt to run, our deal will be void, and she will be returned to her previous state, in my possession, do I make myself clear?"

"Will…my family know I'm gone?"

"No. For them, the briefest of instants, the mere blinking of an eye, will be all the time that passes while you are in my care."

Again, she nodded. At least that much was taken care of.

"Now, if that's settled-?" He gestured for her to rise, but Sarah made no move to obey. "Wait. What about the second favor? You never told me what it is."

"I'm aware. It will be named at the end of your stay, does that satisfy you?"

It didn't, but she knew perfectly well that it would have to do. She climbed slowly to her feet, unsure of what to do next. Jareth prevented her from having to think on it. Without another word he stepped closer, wrapping his arm gently around her waist and pulling her close. She could feel the heat of him even through their clothes. Then, suddenly, his warm breath on her neck, "Hold tight." And the word dissolved around them.

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Sarah stretched, arching her back, arms over head, until something popped and she felt marginally better. It had been such a strange dream, really. Impossible though. No matter how dark things looked she knew better than to call on Jar-on a certain Goblin King. That was simply inviting disaster in through the front door.

She rolled over and snuggled down further into the bed clothes. It was so good to sleep in for once…No matter how early she went to bed, sleep only seemed to make her more tired. She never stopped to consider the fact that it shouldn't have been as bright in her room as it was just then. Her west facing window let in only minimal sun, and the rays of early morning light that were pouring in were strangely out of place.

She pulled the sheets over her head, twisting them in her fingers. So soft….

Too soft.

Certainly not her own, well loved, slightly scratchy linen sheets.

One of her blue eyes opened just a crack.

Wrong color, too…

_That_ was enough to jolt her fully awake. About the time that she was noticing that she was in a bed she'd never seen before, Sarah also realized that she was without clothes of any sort. Being in the bed made her nervous because she had no idea who it belonged to. Being without clothes made her nervous period so, wrapping the blue silky sheets around herself in a kind of makeshift robe, she rolled out of bed to look for them.

She jolted when the soles of her bare feet touched the cold marble floor. That was even more wrong. No one she knew, even vaguely, had marble flooring….Just how wasted had she gotten last night? Surely Kathy would have stopped her from doing anything too…_Oh, shit._

Sarah recalled abruptly that the memories of the previous night had not been some strangely impossible dream, and the memory of Kathy, surrounded by those horrible tubes and machines left her blood running cold.

It all came crashing back and she had a pretty good idea of whose bed she might be in. That particular thought propelled her across the room to the only other door she could see.

It opened under her touch and revealed a walk in closet, complete with rows of boots and poet shirts, and those unmistakable breeches…

Sarah swallowed thickly.

This was not good.

_Not good at all_…

This was definitely Jareth's room, she had definitely woken up in his bed, and she was definitely and without a doubt without clothes of any kind.

No. No good.

Slowly, cautiously, she backed out of the closet and turned to survey the room with a suspicious gaze. The bed was certainly the center of attention, large and-she snorted-fit for a king. If she hasn't know it was his, she would have been jealous. Beautiful, dark cherry wood frame, the curtains surrounding it were thrown back to let in the early morning light. It was covered in silk sheets and feather soft blankets that were practically an invitation to curl up and take a nap. The floor was grey marble, veined with gold and blue, Sarah had never seen any stone like that. An ornate dressing screen separated another portion of the room that Sarah could only assume was the bathing room.

She felt a jolt of recognition when she saw the clock that was hung over the mantle of the fireplace. It was the same one that had counted down her allotment in the Labyrinth. The fireplace itself was large and spacious, and she could see that a few embers still glowed weakly from among the grey ashes. Wood was stacked nearby in a gold-or at least golden colored-holder.

A crystal pitcher filled with an unrecognizable amber liquid rested on the mantle, accompanied by several crystal goblets. There was no clutter, no odd clothing left out, nothing to suggest that this room was lived in like so many rooms that she had seen in the mortal world. It was cold, imposing and secretive; it fit Jareth a perfectly as those gloves of his.

As she contemplated his room, she became acutely aware of her state of undress. She supposed she could have put on some of his but the idea seemed unattainable, as though she would have to cross some impassible dimensional barrier just to step into a pair of pants.

Doing her best to put the thought of his pants from her mind, Sarah went back to the bed to begin her search for clothes anew. She checked under the bed, but no clothes. There was however, an old sock, a riding crop and a single, unmatched old boot. Apparently, no matter what world you were in, some things never changed. The thought brought a reluctant smile to her lips.

The smile was short lived though.

How long would he be gone? The idea that he could burst in at any moment, made her search even more desperately. In a trunk in the corner of the room she unearthed a slightly smaller shirt, still peasant style, a flowing green skirt, and-to her delight-her old, very comfortable shoes from her last trip to the Underworld. Sarah wasted no time on who they might belong to; anything was better than the sheet she was currently wearing, and wiggled into the clothes. They were a good fit, nice material and she knew even without a mirror that they would be flattering to her figure. Sarah smiled.

Jareth might be a bastard, but even she had to admit; he had excellent taste.

The only warning she had was a small, perfectly spherical crystal that rolled across the floor and came to rest against her left right foot. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and caught that unmistakable scent.

She didn't turn to confirm with her eyes what her sense had already told her.

Jareth…

"Sarah, my dear," he purred softly, "I must say, I think I preferred your previous ensemble…" She knew he'd been watching for longer than the last few seconds, and she knew with equal certainty that he was wearing that goddamn arrogant smirk that she had come to know and detest.

Sarah did her best to hide the blush that she just knew was covering her from her toes to her hairline. Jareth just has that effect on her. She sighed, seemingly with boredom, "Hello, Jareth. You know, you could just knock."

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(A/N) So?! What did you think? Love it? Hate it? Wanna take it home and marry it?! TELL ME!!!!!

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	3. Accomidations

_"…You could just knock…"_

Jareth's smirk only widened, "Well, I suppose I _could_ have…but then I wouldn't have been afforded such a spectacular view." His voice practically oozed confidence, and Sarah didn't have to meet his eyes to know that he was ogling her unabashedly; she could feel it up and down her spine.

She kept her voice level, "Regardless of the view, you don't seem to have mastered the concept of privacy." was it just her or did that smirk dampen just a smidge? "Or decency, for that matter." she muttered.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing." apparently he had the supernatural hearing to go with the magic powers…great. Just great. "Speaking of privacy, Jareth, exactly where are my clothes?" for a fleeting second, she allowed herself to wonder just how she'd wound up naked. She sent a silent prayer to whatever gods might be watching that he hadn't undressed her. The idea of being alone with him, unconscious and vulnerable was unnerving enough. "I know you've done something with them, so if you'd be kind enough to return them, you can have these back."

"May I, now?" it was a perfectly innocent statement, but somehow he managed to make it into anything but.

He watched in amusement as another blush colored her face, then decided to take pity on her-for the moment. "I am afraid that the trip between worlds was more trying on your wardrobe than on yourself. I will have one of the goblins mend your clothes. Until then, I thought it prudent to provide you with spares." the smirk returned, "But...If you'd rather I take them back…"

"No! No, they're fine. Thank you."

He just kept grinning that self satisfied grin at her. "I'm so glad you approve." Jareth glanced around the room-his room-taking in everything from the open closet door, to the rumpled bedclothes, to the old boot Sarah had pulled out from under the bed in her search. "Did you find the accommodations to your liking?" he was the picture of innocence.

Sarah winced. She wasn't touching that one with a ten foot pole-there was absolutely no good way to answer that.

"I'll take your silence for approval."

Before she could respond the world reordered itself around her for the second time in as many days and she found herself standing in the center of the vast throne room. Thankfully the side effects of traveling by magick seemed only to apply to large distances and her head stopped spinning almost immediately.

This was definitely the throne room.

It hadn't changed much.

It was still filthy. There were still leaking casks of ale placed strategic locations. A few chickens wandered absently, scratching at the straw and giving it half hearted pecks, but their owners were absent. The room felt strangely empty without the inebriated goblins to complete the scene.

Jareth lounged comfortably on his chair. One leg thrown over the arm, as he regarded her with that unreadable gaze of his.

"You recall the terms of our contract, Sarah?" his tone was all business.

She nodded affirmative.

"Splendid. You will be my guest for the length of one month. In that time you will be treated as one of my subjects. You will live in the castle, and work as I see fit." Sarah had expected as much. She sighed in a resigned way, fully prepared to be assigned to scrub toilets or shovel garbage or whatever passed for grueling, menial labor around here.

"During your stay, you may come and go as you please, you have full run of the castle and the goblin city. You may, if you so choose, explore the Labyrinth, but I would advise against it, for reasons that you are no doubt well aware of."

Hmm…it could have been worse…

"For the purpose and duration of our contract, Sarah, you are mine. You will treat me with the respect that I expect from all my subjects."

"So basically, I'm a slave." she said quietly.

"Of course not, my pet" he seemed a bit taken aback by the suggestion, "I have a multitude of goblin servants, while inept, they can preform almost any task I set for them. Why ever would I want another one of them? No. You are no slave, Sarah. I would prefer for you to think of yourself as…as an assistant."

"An assistant?" That didn't sound so terrible…

"Yes. I can think of any number of tasks, either too delicate or too important to be regulated to the goblins. For one thing, I will have use for you as my scribe. Goblins, the vast majority any way, cannot read or write and those who can do so too poorly to be of much use. I could use a good deal of help with the tedium of paperwork that is required to keep this kingdom running. You will also act as my personal attendant, who will be having some time away-for reflection- goblins are far too clumsy for such a task. And of course there are times when the castle is visited by foreign dignitaries it would save me a great deal of effort to have a reliable escort-"

Sarah snorted, "Secretary, attendant, dating service; anything else your majesty?" He seemed to take visible pleasure in the use of his title, however sarcastic.

The thought came to mind that if the game of their last encounter had been football-each fighting brutally against the other for dominance. Then this game would be chess; calculated, strategic violence under a thin veneer of civility. Sarah still wasn't sure which she preferred.

He grinned again.

"Not for the moment, but I will be sure to inform you if anything comes to mind." he was silent, studying her, for long enough that Sarah thought the conversation was over before he spoke again.

"It seems to me, that even so that leaves you a great deal of time unspent. So, what to do to occupy yourself during it…?" she knew he was speaking more to himself than he was asking her what her leisure plans were. "Tell me, Sarah, do you know anything of horses? You're not unreasonably terrified of them?"

She schooled her expression to remain carefully blank, "Yeah, I guess so."

She had almost a decade of riding lessons to her name. The times she spent at the barn were some of the few times that she could honestly say she enjoyed herself fully. She was happiest riding but she enjoyed the daily work that came with it almost as much. Doling out grain, shoveling manure, hauling hay. She absolutely adored the time she spent with the foals and weanlings, and she loved getting to help Kathy exercise the boarder's horses. Saying that she 'liked' horses probably qualified for the understatement of the year.

_If he knew, he'd never have even asked._ she thought to herself.

Outwardly, she did her best to school her face into apathy. "I mean, no, I'm not terrified of them or anything like that. Why do you ask?"

"Perfect. You will spend the remainder of your time working the stables under Madame Chasely. I feel I do not need to tell you that you will treat her with as much respect as you would me."

Sarah bit back a snort. Somehow she thought that that wasn't exactly fair to Madame Chasely, seeing as she'd never met the woman, but she did have to suffer through working for Jareth so Sarah wouldn't hold it against her.

He continued as though he hadn't noticed, "I am also sure I do not need to inform you that if you attempt to run, or if you fail to fulfill the conditions I set, our contract will be null and void and Kathy's time will be returned to its former state."

Sarah swallowed thickly. She was _acutely_ aware of that particular fact.

"Is that in any way unclear?"

And there was the real test, would she be able to hold her tongue and feign obedience to this man? Kathy's face swam in her minds eye.

So, for the first time in his presence, Sarah Williams swallowed her pride, bowed her head and bit her traitorous tongue to silence; "Crystal."

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Sarah followed closely behind her guide as they made their way through the maze of corridors within the palace. Her eyes darted back and forth, trying to take in everything at once. The last time she had been inside this structure was a blur of goblins and glitter and stair that led everywhere and nowhere, she'd hardly had time for sightseeing as she searched for her brother.

This time would be different, she told herself. There was more time now and she planned to remember each step in exquisite detail. The grime and glitter straw barnyard theme Jareth seemed to favor for the throne room continued throughout the rest of the castle. On closer inspection she realized that the glitter seemed to be some sort of clear crystal flecked through the stone of the castle itself. Black sconces lined the walls, unlit now, with the bright afternoon sunlight that streamed in through the windows lining this particular hall. She guessed that the torches in them burned with real fires not some magical equivalent as she could plainly see the soot marks that were above each sconce and above the height that the average goblin could reach to clean. There was minimal decoration; the occasional wall hanging or tapestry, but nothing ornate or luxurious. She wondered about it for a few minutes in silence before she realized why it was.

This section of corridors must be intended mainly for runners from the labyrinth. Why bother making a show of wealth and power when your audience has most likely reached their threshold for "extremely impressed" hours ago. She did not think about whether or not anyone else had ever reached this far.

As she walked, Sarah watched the floor underfoot for oddly marked or chipped tiles. When she caught herself she had to make a conscious effort to stop. After all, they couldn't leave traps on inside the palace all the time, right?

Still, it would have been easy to become hopelessly lost in the maze that was Jareth's home as she followed closely on her goblin guides' heels. He was what Sarah thought of as medium height for a goblin, a little under three feet high. He was also slightly less grimy than most of his brethren, which earned him several points in her book.

He hadn't spoken a word to her since Jareth had summoned him up to guide her to her room. Only stood and stared, wide-eyed at Jareth as his job was explained to him, bobbing his oversized slightly dish faced head in acknowledgment. He had then progressed to staring wide-eyed and only slightly less fearfully up at Sarah, before motioning for her to follow him out of the throne room. With a last glance over her shoulder at Jareth, she'd had no choice but to obey.

The halls of the castle were empty as they moved through the endless twists and turns. The air was still and muggy even as dust motes danced in the afternoon light. There was no sign of any of the other denizens of the castle, not so much as a wayward chicken. Even still, Sarah couldn't shake the sense that she was being watched. Several times she thought she heard footsteps or a hastily muffled squawk, but when she turned around there was no one there.

"…they's too scared to come out. Baby-Lady famous." The words were almost a whisper.

She turned to her guide, "Did-did you say something?"

His eyes, absurdly large even for a goblin, went even wider before he answered, "They is scared to…to come out." His gaze darted back and forth between her face and her hands as though she might go for his throat to throttle him at any moment. Sarah found it a bit unnerving.

"What are they scared of?" she asked quietly.

He swallowed dryly, closing his eyes. "..you." he squeaked. As soon as the words left his mouth he lept into a nearby alcove, arms covering his head. Sarah looked around for a second before realizing that he was afraid she was going to do something to him

_Poor thing…_she thought angrily, _No wonder they're frightened, Jareth must treat them horribly!_

"Don't be scared," she said softly. She crouched down a few feet in front of the armor to peer at the little creature. "I'm really nothing to be afraid of, I promise. I don't see why you'd be scared of me in the first place."

He gulped. "Baby-Lady bested King! Make King maddy mad mad. But, King doesn't bog Baby-Lady...we thinks, even Kings scared of Baby-Lady!"

Sarah bit her tongue to keep from laughing at the poor thing. In a very slow witted sort of way, it did make sense.

Especially when viewed from the goblin's point of view.

"Really, I'm not scary at all. I won't bog you or throttle you, or what ever it is you're scarred I might do. Please, come out."

He opened one eye a crack, hesitating for a few seconds before he moved out from behind the armor, quivering all the while. "Ye-Yes lady." he said in a trembling voice.

Sarah smiled, "You don't have to call me 'lady' either. I'm a commoner too, I suppose. Sarah will do just fine."

"Okey dokey, la-Sarah." he looked ready to dive behind the armor again at the slightest movement. Sarah felt her heart go out to the ugly little thing. If Jareth was mean to her, how must he treat the goblins?

She smiled reassuringly at him. "So, do you have a name?"

"Me?"

"Yes. Go on."

"I-I Scuzz."

"Scuzz Well, it's nice to meet you Scuzz. At least I know somebody besides Jareth in the castle now."

"Nice to meet you Baby Lady Sarah." Scuzz said, more confidently this time. Sarah chose to ignore her new and inglorious title. "You follow me, I take you to your room."

Sarah smiled her thanks before they continued on, one happy to be in one piece after meeting the fabled Baby Lady and the other happy to have another friend.

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Scuzz led her to a heavy oak wood door at the end of a hall way lined with such doors. Sarah guessed it was a servants dormitory of some sort. Hers was the last room on the left. She thought the hall was likely somewhere near the north-eastern corner of the castle judging by the direction of the light, but she couldn't be sure. For all Sarah knew, the sun might rise in the west and set in the south here. The room itself was of medium size, with a small 'bathroom' adjoining it, a bed and a closet. All in all it was far nicer than she had expected. In truth, she'd been anticipating something closer to a dungeon cell.

"I be back for you at dinner time. King wants yous to eat wiv 'im. King say talk more then."

Sarah nodded, still inspecting the room. She noted that the door did not come with a lock. "Thanks, Scuzz. I'll be ready."

He nodded again and bowed himself out, leaving Sarah alone to explore.

It was a bit bigger than her room at home, with a worn, but cozy rug covering the floor, and wall hangings that would serve to absorb some of the ever-present chill that came off the glittering stone. The bed was a double sized, with a comfortable mattress-minus the springs-that appeared to be stuffed solely with feathers.

A small dressing screen partitioned off one corner of the room, complete with a hook for hanging clothes on. Sarah glanced behind it and had to make real effort to hide her delight. The wall was taken up with a ceiling to floor bookshelf, stuffed to the brim with books of every kind imaginable. Leather-bound, paper-back, some obviously new, some near to falling apart with wear. She recognized a few of the titles as books from the mortal world, but for the most part she'd never seen any of the volumes before. There were a few that appeared to be written in some other dialect, the script of which seemed to move with a will of its own beneath her gaze. Looking at a fixed point on it made Sarah dizzy if she studied the script for too long.

She smiled inwardly. Perhaps her time here wouldn't be so terrible after all. There were an awful lot of books.

Crossing the room, she peered into the bathroom. Not too depressing; the plumbing left a few things to be desired, but claw-footed tub would be nice enough if she could find a way to fill it. On a shelf above it she found a jar of bathing oil and a whitish block of homemade soap, both of which smelled pleasantly of lavender. Sarah rolled her eyes at the pale pink soap block. Peaches. Of course. He did love his little jokes…

The closet was the next stop on her list. While she had to admit the clothes she'd found already were quite nice, they were hardly suited to barn work… Sarah giggled at the mental image of herself trying to pick stalls in a lacy ball gown.

She opened the door and was actually pleasantly surprised. While there were quite a few skirts such as the one she was currently wearing, there were also a few pairs of breeches-jeans would have been too much to hope for-and sensible boots.

She picked a pair of dark green breeches and a cream colored peasant shirt to change into, glancing around the room to be sure there were no crystals lurking about where they oughtn't be, before wiggling out of the skirt. Next, she traded her slippers for sensible, mid-calf length boots, and turned to scrutinize herself in the mirror.

Yes, that would do.

Sarah realized she didn't look that much different than she would have at a horse show. This was a whole other world, everything was different here, except her. Same plain brown hair, same pale, slightly freckled face, same Sarah Williams.

She stifled a groan of frustration. It didn't matter what she looked like. _Doesn't it?_ Her inner voice whispered, It wasn't as though she was trying to impress him. _Of course you're trying to impress him_! She did her best to step on her inner voice before it could plant any further insidious ideas. Even so, she knew on some level, though she was loathe to admit it, that his opinion did matter. Very much so. Not because she valued it, because she didn't, but because the name of the game was one-up-manship. This little contest was entirely about who could out do the other, if only for the briefest moment in the subtlest ways.

That was the goal. The much fought over prize they were both so eager to possess. Who held that extra little slice of power? Who was truly in control?

Sarah smiled. She had beaten him once already at his own game. If she could do that four years ago, she could certainly outlast him for a single month. She nodded to herself, satisfied. Yes, she would play his game, she would abide by his rules, and she would win. With that decided, she settled herself on the bed to wait for Brindle to show her to supper with a certain Goblin King.


	4. The King of Bad Timing

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(A/N) this is just a short one to tide you over…thanks for all the reviews, (I got home, checked my e-mail and WABAM! I had like ten!-okay, so it sounds a lot less impressive when I'm typing it out, but it still made my day… : P )

DISCLAIMER: I do, I do, I do own it all!!! I sell my stories and make stacks of money off them! I do, I do, and I love every second of it. I invented the Labyrinth and all the characters and they're mine! Mine! Do you hear me?! MINE!!!!!!

_( **DISCLAIMER TO THE ABOVE DISCLAIMER: I am lying… **)_

CHAPTER IV - King of Bad Timing

Sarah glanced at her watch again, for what seemed like the twentieth time in as many minutes. For all intensive purposes it seemed to be working, the second hand still ticked off the moments in a timely fashion, the minute and hour hands still made their rounds, and thought she had a feeling that if she continued to use it to mark time she would loose a few days somewhere, it was still far past dinner time.

Her stomach growled irritably. Sarah was not-by nature- someone who kept a multitude of rigid habits. She enjoyed being spontaneous, but the few she did have she kept to with a passion. Dinner was served every night between seven and seven thirty, no earlier and no later.

She glanced at her watch again, and watched as the readout changed from 9:46 to 9:47.

_One would think that when one has invited someone to dinner, one would at least _try_ to be on time…_

In the time since Brindle had left her to explore her room, Sarah had already gone through The Wizard of Oz and the Celestine Prophesy, she was well into the Onion Girl, and the King of Bad Timing was working on her last nerve…

The only interruption had come from a small black crow that had perched on her window several hours earlier. The thing had spent twenty minutes pecking and cawing and cackling at her before she'd told it to hush up and leave. Sarah had been about to open the window to throw something at it, when-to her great surprise-it did just that.

God-! For someone who kept a magical clock so close to hand, Jareth had the absolute worst timing of anyone she'd ever met.

Sarah snorted.

She was usually the one who late for everything, running on "Williams' Time" that was what Kathy had…called…it.

No. Her mind shied away from that. The hurt was too fresh, if she let herself dwell on it…No, she wouldn't think about it. She wouldn't let it go that far.

"Where the hell is he?!" she growled to no one in particular.

"Pardon me." The words were so faint that Sarah wasn't sure whether she'd only imagined it. She turned a full circle, eyes scanning the room. The door was still closed. She was, for all appearances, still alone in the room.

"Hello?" Sarah leaned over the edge of the bed to glance behind the dressing screen. "Is someone there?"

"Yes. Pardon, milady." The voice was stronger this time, though she couldn't be sure if it was male or female. It seemed to be coming from the center of the room near ceiling level. Sarah looked upward but all she could see was the tiling on the ceiling. Certainly nothing that should be talking to her.

"Who said that? Who are you?"

The voice was calm and monotonous, "I am the Hob."

"The Hob?" this was a little strange, even for the Labyrinth. "Wh-where exactly are you?"

"I am in the castle." the Hob sounded a bit taken aback to be interrogated, but continued on, "I over see the maintenance of this place. I am everywhere inside the castle. Your pardon, milady, his Majesty sends a message for you…"

Sarah waited expectantly, but the voice was silent.

"Uhh…Hob?"

'Yes." still calm and clear.

"What is it?"

"Pardon?"

"The message?" Perhaps it wasn't so strange.

"The message from his Majesty?"

Sarah suppressed a groan. "Yes, that message. What is it?"

"You wish to hear it?"

No matter who or what you were talking to here, some things never changed… "YES! Yes, that's the one! I want to hear the message from Jareth."

Sarah could almost see the bemused grin the thing would no doubt be wearing. "Of course milady. His Majesty wishes me to inform you that he regretfully will be unable to join you in your evening meal. He would also like me to inform you that you should report to the kitchens to acquire your sustenance."

"Oh…" she said lamely. _How nice of him to '_inform_' me this at ten o'clock at night._ "Is that all?"

"No. He would like you to be made aware of his deep regret for the situation, and for me to also inform you that you will begin your duties at the stable yard tomorrow under Madame Chasely. Until that time you are free to move about the castle as you see fit, you may not however, enter the lower levels of the Great Library. I am to make that last especially clear in your mind."

Sarah nodded, then, unsure of whether or not the Hob could actually see her, replied, "Thanks…er…Hob."

"Certainly." was the cool response, "Should you wish to convey a reply to His Majesty you may dictate it to me at this time. I will see that he receives it."

She was about to decline, but her grumbling stomach and her jangled nerves got the better of her, "Actually I would. You can tell 'His Majesty' that when someone is invited to dinner, and that dinner is canceled, it's considered rude to wait to inform them of this seven hours later. You can make _that_ especially clear to _him_." she growled.

"Are you certain that is the message you wish to send?" asked the Hob.

"Uh, yes. Quite certain."

"Pardon, milady, but I feel it important to inform you that you were notified earlier as well."

"Excuse me?" this was news to her. Sarah was fairly certain that she would have remembered being told that dinner was ready when she was before now.

The Hob was silent for a moment before responding in a somewhat rueful tone, "You sent the messenger away, milady. I believe you said, 'Oh, hush up and leave!'"

"Oh…"

"Yes. Oh."

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	5. Purple Exploding Heads!

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(A/N) I know nothing much happened in the last chappie, but my wonderful parental unit was screeching for me to fork over the lap top (Honestly, I think there is some Banshee blood in her…) and I wanted to get at least something up, so the actual progress from the last one got crammed into this one… K

DISCLAIMER: How do you say "_I don't own this_" in French?

SECOND DISCLAIMER : I disclaim the word 'Muppet' to the Jim Henson company.

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CHAPTER V – Purple Exploding Heads!!!!

"Hob?" Sarah glanced upward, wondering if she might catch a glimpse of the Hob, but no such luck, "Hob, are you there?"

"Of course, milady. How may I assist you?" The voice of the Hob was as cool and collected as before, and like before it seemed to echo down from somewhere in the vicinity of the ceiling.

"I'm trying to find the kitchen, but I've been wandering around for an hour and I think the hallways are changing on me…" She tried to keep the annoyance from her voice. Leave it to Jareth to have a house that was as obnoxious as he was.

"You wish to journey to the galley?" the Hob asked softly.

Sarah sighed, "Yes, Hob, I wish to journey to the kitchen and I wish to do so now. Can you give me directions or something?" Hopefully that would be specific enough.

The Hob was silent for a moment and Sarah began to hope that he/she/it would actually comply on the first request. "Would it not be simpler for me to bring the kitchen to you mi-" Perhaps not.

"No, Hob. Just the directions."

You wish to walk there?"

"And what would be my other options? Horseback? Light rail? Yeah, if it's close, I'll walk."

"Very well. Walk to the end of the hallway, turn left then left again immediately. You will be in the kitchen." Thank you.

She wasn't sure how she knew, but Sarah felt the Hob leave. She shook her head. It meant well, but it was tedious talking to that thing. She was tired just thinking about their next conversation.

She set out down the hallway, hoping it was shorter than the rest. All of the passages seemed to look the same, so she was never sure if she'd just gone in a circle or not.

After the first few minutes of wandering around she had tried a few of the doors she'd come to. One of the opened into darkness so complete the light from the wall sconces seemed to be swallowed up by it-she shut that door, slammed it really, and quickly moved on. The next one had opened into what appeared to be a pantry of some sorts and for a moment Sarah had considered looking for dinner in there, then she noticed that some of the jars and sacks were shaking and squawking alarmingly and decided against it.

The Hobs directions proved to be harder to follow than they seemed. When she came to the end of the hallway, she took the left as was instructed and then the next left available to her, but that door opened into a back stair way. After retracing her steps several times she decided to take the instructions literally, and-despite the fact that the rational part of her mind insisted she would smack face first into the wall-turned left immediately.

Instead of connecting with the paneling, she found herself in a kitchen of sorts. A huge hearth took up most one wall, with a roasting spit over it. Pots and pans and other implements hung from the ceiling. Dishes were stacked on every available surface, higher than Sarah would have thought possible, but the delicious smell wafting from the far end of the room overpowered her sense of caution and she made a b-line right for it.

Sarah stopped when she noticed that she was not the only one in the Kitchen. At the far end of the room were several large wooden trestle tables, piled with plates and bowls of food. Though she didn't recognize any of it, it smelled wonderful.

Seated at the tables were two…well, she wasn't sure what they were, they looked like a mix between giants and the orc's that were described by J.R.R. Tolkien. Grey lumpy skin, blocky build, teeth to make a dentist cringe; they were probably the ugliest things she'd ever seen. Around them were several smaller goblins, the tallest of which were no more than two feet high.

She was about to turn and look for dinner elsewhere when one of the Orc things noticed her. "OY! 's her! C'mere pinky." It said blithely. Sarah realized that it was a girl.

The other one nodded, "Yeah, 'ave a seat. We won' bite." He scooted over on the bench to make room for her, while the mini-goblins watched her with curious eyes.

_Well, too late to change my mind now._ Sarah thought. She maneuvered herself into the space left open for her carefully. Sitting between them, she felt like a Toyota caught between two Mac trucks; about to be squashed at any moment.

The female Orc smiled down at her alarmingly, "Hi. I's is Mipsy."

"'N I'm Gorg." Said the other.

Sarah tried to smile politely, but she knew it looked rather strained, like a deer caught in the headlights. "I'm Sarah."

"We knows who you are." Mipsy said, "You's is the one what beat 'Is Majesty's Labyrinth. Everyone knows who you's are."

"Oh…"

Sarah's eyes fell on a bowl of brown bread which set her mouth to watering. Well, they had said have a seat…

"Are you's allowed to eat?" Mipsy asked politely.

"What?" the Hob said to come to the kitchen to get dinner. Sarah hoped she'd picked the right kitchen; maybe there was more than one?

"I 'eard that mortals wasn't allowed to eat our food, don't you 'eads explode or something if you do?"

This was the first Sarah had heard of it.

"Gah! Mips, you talk a load sometimes." Gorg said, "Their 'eads don't blow up! They just turn purple all over then they die."

Sarah's hand, which had previously been reaching for a slice of bread, was now in her lap.

"And it's not just from eatin out food neither. Mortals can die from just about anything here, they can do it even if they just put a stone in their mouths or from jumpin over some sticks. Right dangerous for you lot it is!"

Sarah pointedly ignored the rumbling of her stomach. She didn't want to touch anything that even might be food. While her turning purple and exploding might be the perfect ending to this little nightmare, she didn't want to take any chances.

"Me mum told me a story once., 'bout it." Gorg continued, "Bout Ripply Wrinkled. He comed here, ate some pommy granite, then jumped over some branches and died."

"You said they turned purple…" Mipsy pointed out.

"Whatever, ate some food, turned purple, tripped over some sticks and died."

One of the little goblins snorted, then stood up on the bench so that he was on eye level with Sarah. "Don't listen to these two." He said kindly, "They are only trying to frighten you and secondly they have no idea what they're talking about. Mortals do not die from eating our food. They simply cannot return to Mortalia henceforth." He proclaimed.

One of the other mini's tugged at the hem of his trousers, "What's Mortalia?"

He sighed in a pained way, "Where the mortals come from, you sod skull!"

"What would a goblin know 'bout it anyways?!" Gorg demanded. He seemed very angry to Sarah but, considering he could have stuffed several of them into his mouth at one time, the goblins didn't seem very concerned.

She sat, listening to the Orc's arguing over top of her, while her stomach growled and grumbled. The goblins seemed to think it was all very funny.

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" 'A course ya can eat! What did you think you were gonna live on? Air?" Hoggle chided, shoving another slice of bread at Sarah. A jar of honey butter sat on the table in front of her, but the bread was rich and sweeter than any she'd ever had at home, so she didn't use it. He'd found her shortly after leaving the kitchen and guided her back to her room.

"Well how was I supposed to know that?" She took a sip of tea. Or, no; it wasn't quite tea. It was almost, exactly _nothing_ like tea. It had a sweet, nutty aftertaste, and was thicker than tea, but it was still pretty good. "They kept arguing about whether or not my head would turn purple and explode, or if I'd just drop dead or never be able to go home if I ate anything. It was nerve wracking!" she said.

Hoggle snorted. "Well, you'd better get used to it! Madame Chasely is no bundle of laughs." He paused as Sarah yawned widely, "You'd better get some sleep. Come morning you belong to her…"

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Sarah woke slowly, like the blossom of a flower unfolding. She yawned, stretching, and wondered absently what that lovely smell was. It took her several moments to realize that it was coffee, and that said beverage was sitting on the table next to her bed.

That got her up.

She picked up the pewter mug, took a sip and grinned. Not just coffee; good coffee. She sighed, still sipping on the coffee, she changed into work clothes, breeches, boots, and a comfortable blouse, and headed downstairs.

The goblin kitchen was the same as most large kitchens in the early hours of the morning; a small universe of barely controlled chaos. She managed to snatch a sticky roll from where a plate of them was cooling on the windowsill, and deposited her mug near a convenient sink on her way out.

She munched on the roll contemplatively. If she was to be stuck here for a month, at least the food was good. If she stood on tip toe right next to the base of the castle, Sarah could see over the wall and out into the goblin city. The city, much like the castle, was just beginning to stir. She wondered if her arrival had caused quite the same stir as last time she'd been here.

She shrugged to herself, she could find out later when she found time to visit the city. For now, she would be content with finding the stables and Madame Chasely.

"Well, c'mon feet. Time to go to work." She said to no one in particular. She found her way out of the castle itself with minimal difficulty and after that it was a matter of following her nose to the unmistakable smell of hay and horses.

She let herself in through a gate to the main stable yard and sighed contentedly.

Here, at least, was something familiar. The stable–like all stables–smelled like hay, and feed and horse. Halters were hung from their rightful places on stall doors and a shelf of lineament and bandages stood next to what could only be a wash rack.

At the very back of the barn was a large tack room, walled off from the rest of it, with saddles and bridles and assorted other tack in the same familiar piles that seemed to accumulate in all tack rooms over time.

She hadn't seen a single goblin since stepping through the gate. There wasn't a cackle to be heard or a green face to be seen.

Sarah could almost make herself believe she was home.

Her eyes drifted closed. It was so blessedly familiar. She could smell the sticky sweet scent of molasses and hay dust that tickled her nose, and hear the soft waffling of horses in their stalls, the jingling of tack.

_Carly and Danny playing_…_Millie barked orders across the lesson arena… Toby was begging Diana to let him ride on of the 'big people' horses… _

She could see them all so clearly in her mind. This tiny world of horses and women.

…_Kathy and Spectacles galloping out of the woods, they leapt the pasture fence with careless ease. "Sarah! You're late, chickadee!"_

And just like that the image cracked. Shattering like so much glass.

It was replaced with the bloodstained tiles where Kathy had fallen, the mournful, urgent wail of sirens spitting the once tranquil air, Bandit's shod hooves flashing in the emergency lights as he reared a challenge to these strange men who dared threaten his world. Tubes, machines, blood–God! So much blood!–surely she couldn't afford to loose so much?

She sighed, slowly returning to reality.

That was the problem with dreams…they were too easily broken.

"Hi there! Can I help you with something?"

Sarah let out a little shriek and was up off the hay bale and several feet away faster than she would previously have thought possible. "OH MY GOD, DON'T SCARE ME LIKE THAT!" She shrieked.

The woman chuckled, in a bemused way, "Well sorry, luv. I was just curious as to what you were doing."

"Nothing. I-I was told to come here and report to Madame Chasely. I'm-"

"Sarah." The woman said, "Yes, I'm well aware of who you are." She chuckled again, "Sorry I startled you earlier."

"Don't worry about it-"

"I won't."

Sarah let that slide, "I just wasn't expecting to see any…any…"

"People?" The woman supplied, "Yeah. That's what they all say. We may be rare but there's a few of us here. But, time for that sort of talk later. Well, come on then." She said. The woman turned, and started off, expecting Sarah to follow behind. Sarah on the other hand, planned on doing no such thing until she knew what was going on.

"Do you actually expect me to just follow you off towards the wood? Where the hell are we going, first off. Second who are you?!"

The woman sighed in a resigned sort of way. "My name is Augusta Chasely, I am Jareth's older sister, this is my barn, and we are going that way."

Sarah planted her feet so firmly she appeared almost rooted to the cobbles, "That's not an answer. I want to know where we're going before I go anywhere with you; Jareth's sister or not!"

"What do you mean where?" Augusta demanded, "We're going to show you the horses. My dear girl, this is a stable; where did you think we were going?"

Augusta Chasely was not the sort of person to waist time on small talk or slow leisurely walks. This much was obvious straight away. Sarah was almost running to keep up with the tall woman's purposeful stride. Sarah had always thought of herself a bit too tall, but Augusta Chasely was a good four or five inches over her. She had the same platinum blonde hair as Jareth, the same finely chiseled features, and the same arrogant smirk. She was dressed plainly in tan breeches, boots and a loose fitting cream colored blouse and coat. There was also a long green scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. In the days to come, Sarah would learn that she had many of them and was always wearing one.

What Sarah saw of the stable as they moved through it at breakneck speed, was beautiful. White, three board fences, cool, lush green grass. It was all quite nice, but it was the horses themselves that caught her eye.

They were beautiful, in a very narrow sort of way. They were all big, they were all perfectly proportioned and impeccably groomed and they all seemed very aware of their own dignity. Sarah was almost afraid to touch them for fear she might ruin the perfect glossy sheen of their coats.

Unlike the stable itself, these horses reminded her nothing of home, they seemed flat; artificial in her mind. After all, what sort of horse was never dirty, never bucked and played with its pasture mates? She couldn't even imagine one of them having a roll in the sand as so many horses were wont to do.

She wondered absently if they got sweaty like normal horses after a workout.

"Well? What do you think of them?" she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Augusta's voice so close behind her. If she hadn't seen the mud on her boots, Sarah would have sworn the older woman floated instead of walked-how else could she make so little noise?

"They're…beautiful." She said reverently, "Perfect…almost too perfect."

Augusta smirked. "I had a feeling you might think so."

With that self-satisfied grin on her face, Sarah no longer held any doubts that she really was Jareth's sister. Sarah mentally chided herself, there were probably a hundred obvious reasons why they were the pinnacle of equine perfection-reasons that she had just as obviously missed. She waited for August to point them out, no doubt with much arrogance and distain.

Instead, the older woman leaned in close and whispered, "I know exactly what you mean. They're too damn _clean_! It's not natural…"

Sarah smiled nervously. _Alright, maybe a few, small doubts…_

"Don't worry. You won't be doing much with them. Despite what they look like, they're pretty low maintenance; it's a side affect of being immortal. The regular horses, however are not low maintenance; they require the same care as any equine you've dealt with before. I want you to work with Justine. You two should get on quite well I think. She's human, like you, she was wished away when she was nine, and she's been here ever since. She'll be in the barn straight across from here. Go all the way to the back near the hay loft. Small, blonde and loud; you can't miss her."

Justine _was_ indeed small and unmissable, with a wiry build and even more wiry blonde curls that adamantly refused to be tamed by hair ties and combs alike. Sarah watched her for a moment as she tossed the hay bales around like feather pillows. Even under all the dust, Sarah could see that she had that sort of full-lipped, doey-eyed beauty that she-who had never been anything but tall, fierce and uncompromising-had always envied.

"Err….Excuse me? Justine?" she said softly.

The girl jumped several feet in the air. The bale she'd been holding went wide, missing the stack entirely and rolling to a stop on the other side of the loft. "Jeeze!! Don' scare me like that!! Don't you know better than to sneak up on someone 'round here?"

"Sorry. Madame Chasely said to report to you."

Justine looked quizzical for a moment, "Madame-Oh! You mean Augusta. Nobody but the guards calls her Madame Chasely." She trotted over to retrieve the bale.

"Are you my new Barn Rat?" the girl called. With a grunt of effort she heaved the bale up and onto the top of the stack.

"Barn rat?" Surely she hadn't been here long enough to be called a barn rat. Sarah thought of Kathy's older sister, Brittany, peacock feather in hand as they inducted new Rats to the St. Ivy Barn family.

"Yeah." Justine said, "Barn Rat. Groom, barn worker, some one who looks after the local equine population? You know; Barn Rat."

Sarah smiled, "Yeah. I guess that's me."

Justine nodded, satisfied "Did she say what she wanted you working on?"

Sarah shook her head.

"Oh, well. Her loss. Don't worry, there's always something to do around a barn-more's the pity. Come on." She jumped down from the pile of hay, dusting her hands off on her breeches, "I'll give you the grand tour."

The tour, as it turned out, was grand indeed. The stable was larger than Sarah had expected, much larger. They had five different fields and paddocks, three barns, and two arenas. Sarah couldn't help but drool over the jumps, they put her little PVC pipe/lawn-chair-set-up to shame.

Justine also introduced her to the mortal horses. These were much more like what Sarah was used to.

"Okay," said the younger girl, "See that big black gelding on the far side of the field? That's Judgment; he's Jareth's favorite." Sarah rolled her eyes, but stayed silent, "The sorrel mare in the corner is Lady, and the little palomino next to her is her daughter, Duchess. See how round they are? They're both gonna foal in the next few weeks. The two duns are the twins, Spring and Autumn. Then there's Ace, Pashta, Delilah-she's the whitish-tannish appaloosa, the one with blue eyes- Cavalier, Cherokee and Comanche." She said, pointing to each on in turn.

"They're wonderful." Sarah exclaimed, and she meant it. This was much better than the magic ones.

Justine smiled proudly, "They're ours; they're the ones we look after."

Judgment, noticing the attention he was receiving, tossed his head and pranced back and forth along the fence line. Justine snorted, "_Gawd_, he's such a ham. I swear, he knows it's almost fair day."

"Fair day?" Sarah asked,

"Yeah, the Great Fair. It's this big well, fair type thingy. It's held every four years here in the Goblin City and it's probably the only reason the other Fae tolerate Jareth and Augusta. It's the coolest thing to go to though. It doesn't matter if you're the poorest man in the city or the King himself; once you're inside the fair grounds everyone's equal."

Sarah nodded as though she had some idea of why this was so important.

"It's great," Justine continued, "We get the horses all dressed up and ride them in, flowers, blankets, silver and tassels and ribbons; we clank so loud you could hear us coming a mile and half away, but it's good fun. It makes some of them nervous but Judgment absolutely loves it; I think he likes knowing that everyone's looking at him…"

Sarah smiled, "Sounds like fun."

"You have no idea. It's a lot of work to get everything ready though. That's why there's like, nobody here right now, everyone's out getting things set up."

"Jareth too?"

"Yeah, he's got more to do than any of us."

Sarah snorted. "I would have thought he'd be out here making me miserable while he had the chance," she said sourly.

A slight frown creased Justine's brow, "Not really. He's got a lot to do, and he's not that sort of person anyway." She said.

"Whatever…"

"So," Sarah said after a while, " Augusta said you got wished away?"

Justine smiled, "Yep. One minute I was waiting for the school bus the next I was standing in the middle of the paddocks. Come on, walk and talk, I gotta get hay for the yearlings."

Justine led the way back to the hay loft.

"It was funny really. After the initial freak out, I figured it was some kinda weird science experiment gone wrong. I figured I was in another city back home or something, so I planned to hightail it out of here and catch a bus for home just as soon as I could." Somewhere along the way she had acquired a pitchfork which she put to work immediately "I had stolen some bread and cheese. I meant to make a run for it once it was dark but I fell asleep in the hay loft. That's were Augusta found me. Jareth wanted to toss me in the bog, but Augusta insisted that I had to pay for what I'd taken first…"

Justine smiled nostalgically, "She put me to work with the mares. It was the worst day of my life; I got stepped on, bit, run over, pushed around, you name it. I was bone tired by the end of the day, I grabbed some bread-fully prepared to be dumped in the bog of whatever-he'd-called-it, then I pretty much just collapsed in the hay again." She punctuated her sentences with flicks of the pitchfork, sending chunks of hay flying over the fence to the waiting foals.

"So, the next morning rolls around," _flick_, "and I'm expecting Jareth," _flick_, "but Augusta shows up and says that since I took more bread" _flick_, "and spent the night" _flick_, "I'd have to work off" flick, "my debts" flick, "again…" finished, she shoved the pitch fork into the remaining pile and dusted her hands off on her breeches.

"Like most humans do I kept eating and sleeping, and one thing led to another, and, well, here I am-five years later-still eating and sleeping and still working it off in the morning."

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"So, the works done for today," Justine said, once they'd finished the tour of the barn and the haying of the foals, "I just have to grab a flake of hay for Muppet and then we can head in." Justine called, scurrying up the ladder to the hay loft at break neck speed, "Just wait there, I'll be right down!" she called.

"M'k!"

Sarah glanced around the part of the barn she could see. Other than storage, it didn't seem to be in use any longer. There was, however, one stall at this end, though she doubted it had seen an occupant in many years. Just as she was contemplating this, something-she couldn't be sure what-moved inside the stall in question, startling her out of the recesses of her own mind. So there was a horse in there after all.

Sarah looked at the door and was horrified to see a thick layer of dust on the latch._ Oh my god, poor thing!_ She grabbed the latch, trying to pull it open. The rusted metal squealed in protest, only making her more determined. She heard movement, and realized this might not have been such a good idea only a moment before something-she couldn't be sure it was a horse-threw itself against the door, shaking the old wood on its hinges, but it held up.

"No!" Justine shouted, poking her head out of the loft, "Don't open that. He's not supposed to come out."

"Wha-what's in there?" She asked nervously.

"That's Monsters' stall. He's big, he's mean, and he's loco." She called down from the loft. There was the telltale pop of a bale being opened, followed seconds later by two flakes of hay soaring over the edge and down onto the waiting cart.

"How long has he been in there?!"

"Sarah," Justine said patiently, "I know it seems cruel, but it's the best way. If we turn him out with the others they only tear each other up. We've tried working with him, but he almost killed Augusta the last time she tried to take him out. He's mean Sarah, like dangerous mean. Don't lift the canvas, don't stick your fingers in there." She spoke slowly and patiently, in the sort of tone one would use with a particularly dim child. "It's just…the only way." She retreated back into the loft.

Sarah waited until she could hear hay being moved again before cautiously pulling back a corner of the canvas to peer into the gloom. Nothing…big dark shapes and little dark shapes and a few more shadows, but she couldn't see a thing. The canvas effectively blocked out what little sun filtered down from the loft window. "If I could just get some light…" she muttered.

She glanced up at the canvas, which seemed to be secured with nothing more than a few tacks and some string. "There!" She grabbed a wad of material in each hand and gave a good, sharp tug. There was the telltale sound of tearing fabric, then the whole thing came sailing down, sending up a cloud of dust as it did. Light from the hay loft now streamed into the opening, and Sarah bit back a gasp as she look in side.

Inside was the biggest horse she'd ever seen. He stood as far back from the newly lit opening as was possible in the small enclosure, dancing nervously on the tips of his hooves. His mane hung in tangled cords down over his shoulders and in his eyes. A thin layer of grime and dirt clung to his coal colored coat and Sarah just knew that when the dust was gone he would be a true black. Scars, both old and deep, crossed his hide; she was relieved to see that none were fresh.

Even in his panic, Sarah could see that he had none of the clumsiness larger horses so often did. He never bumped against the walls, didn't stumble did trip. He gave a series of little half rears-all he could managed in the stall. Sarah opened the door wider to let in more light, and this time when he went up it was all the way, hooves flailing towards her.

_"Never let 'em see you sweat; they're stubborn animals, Sarah, you've got to be the more willful of the pair…"_ Kathy's warning rang sharp in her mind; she stood her ground.

"Now, stop that…" she said sternly, "Is that any way to treat someone who's trying to help you?"

Sarah watched his gaze dart back and forth from the open door to her-standing between him and it-as if considering his chances of literally running her down. He pawed the ground nervously, snorting and tossing his head. She realized the poor thing was probably scared out of his wits. Who is this strange little human, and what was she going to do to me?

Sarah dug in her pocket and fished out an extra sugar cube from the tea Hoggle had brought with him. Just as she'd hoped, Monster's eyes focused on that, instead of the light and the open door. "That's right. It's for you…" He stretched his neck out as far as he could, lipping at the empty air in a vain attempt to reach it without having to step any closer than he already was.

Sarah smiled, "No, not yet. First you have to come over here. Then you can have it." Slowly, cautiously, he took a step towards her, then another. "But to do that, you'd have to trust me, wouldn't you?" He paused every little bit to paw the ground.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he was close enough. He stretched out his neck again, carefully, slowly, and took the proffered sugar cube from her palm so gently she could barely feel it.

He leapt several feet away from her before he even finished gobbling it down, and snorted loudly. Sarah smiled, reaching outside the door, she grabbed a halter off the hook and sat down in the doorway to wait.

After about an hour the stallion had made his way from the far corner of his stall to about two feet in front of her, curiosity outweighing his fear, just as she'd hoped it would. "That's right, buddy-boy, I won't hurt you." She murmured. Slowly, she stood, halter in hand and took a step towards him. He snorted and tossed his head, but he didn't run.

"Yes, good boy. You're alright, eh? I'm just gonna walk over there and put this nice halter on you, m'k?" she said softly, "And you're gonna be a good boy and just stand still, so I can put it on you, hmm? Can you do that, buddy?" She slipped the lead rope over his neck, "I'm sure you can. Good boy."

She unbuckled the halter, holding it up so he could see it. "Just a halter love. It's not gonna hurt you. I'm just gonna slip it over your head…" slowly as she could she slid it over his head and into place, being sure to buckle the ends securely instead of just tying them as she usually did.

Through it all Horse-she refused to call him monster, even in her head; it was no name for a horse-stood perfectly still. She gave a little tug on the rope and he stepped forward obediently. He knew that the hated halter was his ticket out.

"Come on, buddy." She said. Grinning, she led him forward, "Let's go get you some sun."

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(A/N) Well? What did you think? Does anyone have any ideas for a name for Horse? If so, message me. I'm not quite sure what to call him yet.


	6. True colors

(A/N) Yes, I know, I'm horrible. I haven't updated in forever. But I've been supper busy so here's a nice long chapter to make up for it. () Hope you like the name I picked out for Horse, (it literally means 'horse' in French, it's the root word for chivalry; as in Knights and such) for anyone who's reading this for a second time: Yes, I'm aware I smudged on the time she had, but the mistake has been corrected. A big thank you to Xaviere Jade for pointing that one out:::hugs:::

**DISCLAIMER: **Do you really have to ask?(see previous disclaiming statements)

DISCLAIMER II : I disclaim the idea for the name Cheval to my history book(which is where it

came from) just to be on the safe side…

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CHAPTER VI – True Colors

Sarah smiled as she watched the Horse gallop the length and breath of the empty paddock, his head held up, ears pricked forward, snorting and leaping just because he could. If he could have been grinning she knew he would have.

He whinnied back over his shoulder; towards her, not the other horses. He'd noticed them through the fence when she'd first turned him loose, but seemed to have little interest in his own kind. He'd snorted and screamed and they'd cleared off to the far corner of the adjoining pasture post haste.

Sarah could see what Justine meant about turning him out with the rest, it was clearly not an option. He ran back towards her, stopping a few feet away to rear and paw the air. Sarah grinned at him, "Boo!" she said loudly.

He jumped backwards, snorting for all he was worth.

She laughed, "Silly thing! Go on! Go play while you can!" he snorted again, then spun around and dashed for the fence.

"Well, I've gotta admit, he's one big beautiful horse…" Justine said, coming to stand next to Sarah. "Suppose it goes to show you that dangerous things come in pretty packages." Sarah knew there was a jibe buried in that one, but she wasn't sure if it was directed at her or a certain Goblin King.

Justine glanced behind them, hearing footsteps, and swore. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear…" she muttered.

He stood, watching the Horse as intently as she had, tapping a riding crop against one tall, black boot. He spoke without so much as turning to glance at them, his eyes never leaving the stallion. "What is that thing doing out here?" he said, his voice practically dripping distain.

Justine seemed unable to meet his gaze, "Well…you see, the thing is…I, uh…"

Sarah stepped forward, hands on her hips, "I put him there." She declared loudly, "It's cruel to keep him locked away like that."

"Sarah-" Justine hissed,

"No! I don't care if you say he's crazy! Well, no wonder! – I'd be mental too if you kept me locked in that dark hole all the time!"

Jareth didn't reply. Instead he turned to Justine, "Has Augusta been informed of this…development?"

Justine shook her head.

"I see. Well, perhaps you're right." He said thoughtfully, glancing at Sarah.

Sarah's eyes widened in shock, "I am?" she smiled, but it was short lived.

"He has not been given adequate care. Nor do we seem to have a place for him here. He's not suited to work or war, he refuses to tolerate the rest of the herd. No, this will not do. Since you brought him out he will be your responsibility for now." He said to Sarah, with his usual smirk, "Clean him up and have him ready by the day of the Fair. He should bring a fair price if we're careful."

"What?!" she shrieked, "That wasn't what I meant at all!" Gods! It was just like him to twist her words into something completely different.

"Sarah, be reasonable. At the moment all he is is a walking feed bill. And while I may be a king, even my resources have their limits." He said patiently, "Every horse I own has a purpose here. They work. They produce, they protect, or carry, or serve in some way to earn their keep. What can that creature do? Shall I place him at the front gate to frighten away unwanted guests? There is no place for him here Sarah; he cannot work so he will be sold."

Sarah wanted to scream in frustration, but she choked it down, her mind whirling. "And…and if he could work, he could stay?" she said slowly. Amazing! Her voice was as calm and level as he looked!

Jareth took a few strides from her, seeming to consider her words.

She pressed on "If I could get him to work, to be ridden, you'd let him stay? Here, in the stables? Would that be…satisfactory?"

He smiled, not a real smile, but a feral grin, "You may have until the day of the fair, three days in total this one included, in which to prove him worth while." He proclaimed.

This time Sarah did growl "Impossible! It's too little time!"

"If I gave you the rest of eternity it would make no difference. That horse will never be ridden. You have my answer Sarah. It _is_ final."

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The next morning Justine met her at the front of the barn. "Come on," she said, grabbing Sarah by the wrist and leading her inside, "You're gonna help me feed."

"But I thought the feed room was that-"

"This is a short cut!" Justine said in an exasperated tone. It's faster to duck through the tack room than to go all the way around the barn and, gods-! Why am I explaining this? Come on!"

Justine led her through the door at what Sarah had thought was the back of the barn. Instead of coming out into the back paddock, she found herself in a large tack room, filled with saddles of all shapes and sizes, pads, bridles, and of course the piles of leather scraps that seemed to accumulate in every tack room over time.

Sarah paused to admire one particularly nice one.

"Whose saddle is this?" Sarah asked, reverently running a finger over the fine tooling of the leather. "It's beautiful." And it was. It reminded her of a cross between a modern English saddle and the pictures of jousting saddles she'd seen in history books, with dark beautiful leather, and oak leaf patterns for the tooling.

Justine froze.

"It-it belonged to a girl who…lived here." She stammered after a few moments. "It was hers while she stayed at the castle."

Sarah frowned, wondering why the question had upset her so, "So where is she now?"

"She-she died." Justine said plainly, her voice completely devoid of emotion, "a long time ago. It would be better if you didn't mention it to anyone else. No need to and such."

Sarah nodded. "So, what were you saying about the feed?"

Justine led her past the tack room into another smaller room filled with buckets and bottles of all sizes. Sarah didn't need to ask what was in them, she knew the smell of supplements no matter what world they were from.

"If you would fill these up while I bring in the mares it would cut our time in half. It's supper easy. The instructions are on all the buckets in that pile. Each horses name and beneath it a list of what they get and how many scoops. All the containers are labeled with what's in 'em so all you have to do if follow directions."

Sarah nodded. "I'm sure I can manage, what about the cart?"

"You know what feed looks like?" Justine asked.

"Yep. Sweet feed, all-stock, pellets, senior. I may not be much for magic but feed I can do."

Justine smiled, "Good. Cause I'm crap at it. I always wind up spilling shit everywhere. One purple bag in the cart for every orange one. Just fill it to the top."

Sarah smiled. "alright."

"Good. I'll leave you to it then…" Justine skipped back through the door, presumably to bring in the mares, leaving Sarah alone in the feed room with her thoughts.

It wasn't so different from feeding back home. The smell of hay dust and molasses hung thick and heavy in the air, tickling her nose and leaving her with a craving for cinnamon that she could never explain. She had always like the way feed felt in her hands, the heavy weight of it, the way it was always cool to the touch, even on the hottest summer days.

The oats and flaxseed were her favorites; they looked almost like water the way they moved in the bags when she scooped out the servings. It was nice to sit here, not having to concentrate on anything but the supplements; no magic, no death, no weight-of-the-world problems. Just feed.

Pulling out a bucket with Cavalier's name printed on it in large looping hand, she leaned over to scoot the brewers yeast bucket closer to where she sat. It came easily, too easily. She lifted the lid. The bucket gave a puff of old powder but was otherwise empty.

"Damn," Sarah muttered, glancing about the room for more. She found none.

There was a canvas covered doorway in the far back corner of the room,_ Probably more in there. _She thought to herself.

She ducked under the canvas…and froze.

Sarah stood as though rooted to the cobles, her gazing taking in the hundreds of pictures that lined the room. Large and small, some where abstracts of horses, others were minutely detailed, but it was the portraits that intrigued her most.

Some were the traditional oil portraits she expects, but others, strangely enough, were black and white photographs.

Most of the pictures were of Augusta and Jareth–obviously much younger–on various horses, or in exotic locales. Some were of people she'd never seen before, others of people who she somehow knew weren't really people, and one was a photograph of Augusta and a young girl who looked for all the world like a very young-very blonde-Kathy.

The girl smiled down from a saddle far to large for her, atop a great black horse whose reins Augusta held loosely for her. Both were smiling, and looked genuinely happy. Beneath the frame was a simple brass plaque: _Lianna and Augusta, Cheval, summer 732_

_Lianna…._ The name resonated within her, strangely familiar despite the fact she had never known anyone by that name. Perhaps one of the goblins had mentioned it? Sarah shook her head to clear it; whoever the girl was, she'd never seen her anywhere at the castle.

_Augusta's daughter, maybe?_ She wondered. Strange then, that she never mentioned her…

Her earlier conversation with Justine sprang to mind,

_"It belonged to someone who used to live here. It was hers while she stayed at the castle."_

_"So what happened to her?"_

_"She died." Justine said plainly. "A long time ago."_

Justine was right…Probably best not to mention it. Grabbing the bucket of brewers yeast she ducked back into the main feed room to finish with the buckets.

She was so utterly engrossed in her task, she didn't notice when Jareth slipped in behind her. He stood, leaning on the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her work. She swayed slightly back and forth to her own rhythm, never breaking her stride, _one scoop, two scoops, one scoop, two scoops_. He found the movements almost hypnotic in a way. She seemed so at home here, her long hair was unbound-there had been no time to rebraid it-and from where she sat it fell nearly to the small of her back, swaying along with her movements. He noticed that it was exactly the same shade of deep, almost burgundy, brown as the sweet feed.

She paused, hand frozen mid-air, as her eyes scanned the corner for the bottle she need. "Damn. I just saw it, too…" Sarah muttered to herself.

Jareth smirked. He leaned over, reaching above her shoulder from behind to pull the bottle she'd been hunting for from one of the shelves. He couldn't help it. He could resist the change to get that close to her, to take in that peculiar scent that was all her own; fruit and feed and hay dust all mixed in together to form something else.

He was close enough that she could feel the heat of him scorching her through their clothing, and then there was that damned scent, sandalwood and rain and the woods just after a storm–_No! Bad Sarah!_ She gave herself a mental shake as he proffered the bottle in question. "Was this what you were searching for?" he asked innocently, his lips inches from her neck.

_Hmm…lips…NO!_

She snatched the bottle from him, more abruptly than she'd intended, and whirled around to face him. "Thank you, but I'd prefer to get it myself." She snapped. He was such an asshole, but why did he have to be so…_alright, I'll think it,…_damn attractive? It wasn't fair…

If she hadn't known better, she might have noticed his smile fade at her harsh tone. But of course that wasn't the way things worked; he might unnerve her, but she didn't get to him…ever. The concept was as foreign to her as the far side of the moon.

"I was merely trying to help." He said softly.

"Yes. Good, thank you." Was it him or were her words a bit forced? He gave a mental shrug, "But I really don't need any help–Damn!" she swore as her hand slipped, scattering flaxseed over the floor, the tiny grains skittering in every direction. "See?!" She demanded, "I need to concentrate."  
"Sarah-"

"Look, if you'd just leave me alone, I'd get this done a lot faster so I can go do whatever ridiculous thing it is you're going to ask me to go do. But until then, I've got to finish this before Augusta gets back, so if you won't go, can you at least be quiet?"

Horse stuck his head through the open window from the paddock outside to watch her with great interest.

To her great surprise, he was quiet for a few minutes as he leaned against the door frame, watching Horse watch her work. Sarah found that if she concentrated on the supplements–the yellow, fresh bread smell of the brewers yeast, the tang of flaxseed, the feel of the selenium as she carefully measured out each ration–she could almost forget that the Goblin King was standing not five feet from her. Almost…but not quite.

He wasn't so bad, when he was like this. Perhaps he would stay this way for a while.

"Well, as…fascinating…as observing you is, I have other business to attend to."

Sarah nodded understanding, never taking her eyes off the buckets.

As he strode to the door, Sarah entertained the hope that he would leave it at that, that they might have actually had a conversation without threats or insults or shouting. He paused and turned in the doorway and inwardly she cringed; apparently not.

"Oh, and Sarah? Don't forget our little wager; you only have until sundown tomorrow to prove that that horse is worth his weight…I'd hurry if I were you." With that he vanished, simply gone without even his customary puff of glitter.

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"She doesn't deserve him." Justine muttered. At that moment she lay sprawled on top of the hay bales in the loft, a strand of straw in her mouth. Technically she was 'taking inventory', in reality she had been attempting to take a nap when a forceful conversation had awakened her.

Augusta snorted from near the latter, nearly scaring Justine out of her skin, "Oh?" she asked, climbing into the loft, "And why is that, pray tell?"

"She's spoilt and selfish."

Augusta's grin only widened as the younger girl continued, "All he wants to do is make her happy, and all she does is shove him away with both hands. It's stupid. He loves her so much–and don't look at me like that, Gussy, anyone with eyes can see it–and she doesn't even care. She doesn't deserve him."

"And who would you think does?"

They both knew where the conversation was headed. When she was younger, Justine had had something of a schoolgirl crush on the Goblin King. "Don't be an ass, Augusta." Justine snapped, "You know what I mean."

"Fair enough, luv, fair enough. Well, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but love is rarely lavished on those who deserve-or even want-it. You might not realize it, my dear, but real, true love leaves us little control over who its object will be. It just happens, hence the apt term 'falling' in love."

Justine sighed, "That's not the point. The point is that it's obvious; she couldn't miss it if she tried, so she could at the least make some kind of effort to be civil to him."

_Gods!_ Augusta thought, _If she could only _think_ half as well as she rides…_ She didn't say it. Instead, she lowered herself down next to her charge, her tired muscles protesting as she did so. "Justine, it's-well, it's complicated, the relationship they have, well…" _Could I possibly make this any worse?_ "…it became the only thing it could be. Just take it at that."

"I know!" Justine moaned, "Don't you think I know that? I still worry about him though, he'd worry himself sick over her if we'd let him. I just wish she'd make an effort, even if it is only to be friends. It's so effing obvious, it's-she's infuriating!"

Augusta smiled knowingly, "So you both keep telling me." She said dryly, "You liked her well enough yesterday, though."

"It's not that I don't, she's nice enough, and it's good to have someone to talk to. I just wish she'd wake up and see what's staring her in the face."

Justine let herself fall back on the hay, sending up a cloud of dust. Augusta bit back a sigh, "Honey, sometimes…Sometimes people don't do the things they should because they don't want anyone to know how badly they want to do them. Does that make sense?"

"No."

She snorted, plopping down on the hay next to Justine, "You're right. It doesn't make sense, does it?" Augusta said softly. Justine sighed; she knew what was coming, she'd set herself up for it fair and proper, "It doesn't make sense at all. It's…just the way that it is."

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_"…sometimes people don't do things because they don't want anyone else to know…"_ Slowly, silently, Jareth turned and slipped back out the gate through which he had entered only moments before. It wasn't until he could no longer hear Augusta's voice that he released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

_"…they don't want people to know how badly they want to do them…"_ His sisters words echoed over and over again in his mind, igniting a tiny spark of something he refused to name. Surely they didn't mean what he so desperately wanted them to. He was letting his own emotions tint them… Jareth ordered himself sternly not to think on it…if he allowed his mind to linger on the possible meaning of those words he would be unable to forget, and that would not do.

A small part of him acknowledged that the spark was hope. It was small and it was fragile, but it _was_ hope and it refused to be ignored. He quickly strangled that notion. Hope was dangerous; it would only invite more wounds that he could very well do without.

Even still, the unnamed thing made breath come short in his chest, and set his pulse to beating faster. Augusta was an empath, true enough, it was why she was such a good emissary when he had need of her. But she would never outright describe someone else's feelings without their express permission. She had reminded him of that fact-sometimes rather forcefully-enough times over the years for it to stick fast in his mind.

Ah, but it felt so damned _good_ to hope, to dream-if only for the briefest of moments-perhaps just for now, just this one time, it wouldn't hurt to hope again.

He shook his head to clear it and gave himself a mental slap across the face. Perhaps a walk would clear his mind.

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All the leathers were in place, snaps snapped, buckles buckled, girth securely cinched and knotted. She had even managed to unearth a battered, albeit undeniably ancient, helmet from the dark recesses of the middle tack room, which was now strapped to her skull for what little protection it might offer. Everything was ready…or, as ready as it was likely to get at least.

She'd chosen an open field at the edge of the woods for their first ride. Reasoning that while he could certainly run away with her, there were no trees or fences-or concrete walls-in the immediate vicinity to be thrown against.

Sarah felt the nervous brush of butterfly wings in the pit of her stomach, and pointedly ignored the rational portion of her mind that was screaming for her to come to her senses and reconsider.

_"Very well, if you're so very confident; you have until the day of the fair. If he can't work, he will be sold. It is as simple as that."_

Just thinking about that conversation was making her angry all over again. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and the horse looked back at her expectantly. Sarah smiled, "I suppose we'll have to find a name for you, won't we?"

He tossed his head in a mixture of approval and impatience. She'd never met an unnamed horse as old as he was before, all the foals she'd known back home had names by the end of their first month or so; once they'd had a chance to get to know the creatures personalities.

The photo from the feed room slid into her mind. _Lianna and Augusta, Cheval, summer 732..._

_Why not?_she wondered, _You certainly look enough like him... _

"Well? how about it? Shall we name you Cheval?"

Another toss of his head. Sarah grinned at him, "Yes, yes, I know. I'm a slow, lazy human. Hurry up." There was no going back now. She had eliminated that option when she had told Jareth she could ride him.

With one hand still on the reins, she slapped the sides and top of the saddle, making as much noise as possible. Despite what she'd expected, he didn't shy away from the sound or the pressure. She desided to take it as a good omen.

"_...that horse will never be ridden..._"Sarah shuddered; riding a crazy horse was what had put her in this position in the first place, and here she was about to walk right into the same wall for a second time...

"It's my own fault she muttered." She took the reins in one hand, grabbing a hunk of mane and lifting her foot to the stirrup, her work-sore muscles protesting loudly. "If I hadn't opened my big fat mouth we wouldn't be here in the first place."

She bounced awkwardly on one leg, once…twice…thrice, then swung her leg over as she threw herself up onto the saddle.

She could feel the big stallion trembling beneath her, his muscles coiled tightly as any spring, as if at any moment he might explode into violent action. In truth, that was exactly what she was expecting. She waited for it. It was the moment she'd been dreading; she'd done everything in her limited power to prepare him but when push came to shove, Cheval would have to make the final choice on his own; to trust her…or not.

She wasn't sure which would be more frightening. Sarah knew perfectly well that once he'd set his mind to getting her off his back she wasn't going to be able to stay on. If he wanted her off she would wind up in the dirt. Simple as pie. Of course, pie was not nearly as frightening as the thought of being thrown off the huge horse she was currently astride.

Sarah waited for the explosion, wondering how long she'd last when it came–just because it wasn't going to prevent anything in the long run, didn't mean she wasn't going to try- but it never did.

He stood, trembling, knees locked, nostrils blowing, head in the dirt; literally shaking with the effort of controlling the overwhelming instinct to run. Sarah picked up the reins and he started violently, but stayed put, shaking even harder, if that was possible. She realized suddenly that he was waiting for her to strike him. She let out the breath she'd been holding and let the reins go slack again, stroking his sweaty neck.

"Shhh. You're alright, boy. No one's going to hurt you now. Poor thing," she crooned, "You're terrified aren't you? Imagine, a great big thing like you being scared of a little-bitty thing like me…" she spoke softly, slowly. Letting him hear the reassuring sound of her voice, giving him something to focus on. Little by little, his trembling ceased, his muscles relaxed and, finally, he dropped his head to graze.

Sarah smiled. She had him. "Alright buddy. You've had your break; time to go to work." She whispered, "We're just going to go for a little walk…"

If she had been expecting the rough, choppy movements of a green-broke youngster, Sarah was sadly mistaken. It was evident within his first few steps that Cheval had been, not just trained, but very well trained at some point. He had always been arrogant, and it showed when he moved, he trotted as though he had no use for gravity and if she hadn't heard the grasses crunching softly beneath his feet, she would have sworn they were floating.

His gait, though smooth, was large and fast, as though he were in a great hurry to get where they were going and get it over with. Sarah asked for a circle and smiled as he curveted obediently beneath her hand. Someone-she hadn't any idea who, but someone-had put a lot of work into him and even now, after so many years, the quality of that work shone through.

She squeezed her legs again, and Cheval leapt forward into a canter. It was wonderful, big and fast and rocking horse smooth. If she so much as twitched a hand he moved, and Sarah smiled when she realized that he was changing leads every time they changed direction.

He jumped up once, of his own accord; not quite a real buck, as if to say 'Oh, it feels so good to run again!" They had almost made a complete circuit of the field when Sarah noticed the log. It was a tree really, old and worn, no doubt felled in some past great storm. It lay on its side in the center of the field. A grin spread across her face; why not? He seemed to know how to do everything else…

His head came up, ears pricking forward as she lined him up with the jump. He knew what was coming, and she felt him tuck his nose and collect, even as he sped his pace. She watched the felled tree coming nearer, counting down his strides in her head, _and three…two…one...Now!_ She gave him a last squeeze as he lifted, launching himself–and her–up and over with surprising ease.

Definitely well trained… she thought triumphantly.

She had completely failed to notice the figure several yards away avidly watching her progress, which was probably a good thing; she'd never been at her best with an audience, much less one as unnerving as the Goblin King.

Jareth watched as they cleared the jump easily, landing several feet further away than he had expected. He had to admit, that monster did have something to him, a steely determination that showed even through all the dust and grime. He watched the girl slow him to a walk. She was grinning madly, her face flushed from excitement instead of fear, her hair tousled from the ride. She was probably the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

She let the reins go slack, leaning forward to scratch behind his ears, her arms encircling his sweaty neck in praise, and Jareth couldn't help but smile along at how happy she was. He stepped out of the shadows and into her view, and his smile faded just a bit as he watched her form stiffen when she saw him.

"Well, well, well." He said dryly, "What have we here?"

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(A/N) Sooo??? What do you think?! I hope everybody likes the name. I'm really, really sorry I haven't updated in so long, but I had a really good excuse! (four-count them FOUR!- new foals at the barn I work at-and we've still got three more to go:D :::grins madly::: ) SO since I gave you a nice long chapter you should READ&REVIEW me cause you know that's what I live for. Also check out my other new story Rainbow Skittles. (it has no reviews so far and is feeling left out. Lol)


	7. Bones in the Closet

(A/N) So, I hope you all liked the last chapter, (thanx for the AWESOME reviews! ) I know it was kinda fudged on the time thing for the first day it was up. (It went from three days, to sundown, to a week…L) but it's fixed now, thanx again to Xaviere. This chapter is written from Kathy's point of view, and it may clear a few things up, but if not please bear with me (I know you'll get if after next one)… As always I demand reviews (good or bad) and in exchange I offer my undying love, eternal friendship and copious amounts of dried meats and assorted cheeses (come on, who doesn't love free cheese?)

**DISCLAIMER:** Am I sure I don't own it? Hmm…let me check :::lets see, amazing art, came from a

movie, David Bowie, unbelievable setting…::: Yeah, yeah I'm pretty sure I don't own it.

When I say 'pretty sure' it really translates to 'YES, YOU MORONS!! WHY ARE YOU STILL

ASKING?!' m'k?

DISCLAIMER II – I disclaim the lyrics at the beginning of the chapter to the band Little Big Town.

Sadly I don't own those either…(yes, I know…I'm a dork)

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_ What goes around _

_ Comes around, _

_ Feel it breathin' down _

_ Heavy on you. _

_ You made that bed, _

_ You're layin' on, _

_ The deeds, _

_ That you have done, _

_ Now, you can't undo. _

- Little Big Town, 'Bones'

CHAPTER VIII – Bones in the Closet

Kathy floated slowly towards consciousness. She found herself drifting, warm and comfortable, in a heavy, hazy cloud. The fact that this was not a naturally tenable position for a human didn't trouble her in the least. Nor did the fact that she couldn't quite recall how she'd gotten into such a strange position; Kathy was sure she'd remember when she needed to.

It felt so good to simply lay still, to rest, to let the softness of the cloud support her. She'd been so tired for so long, there was never enough time to really rest.

Perhaps she'd overslept?

That thought did trouble her. In fact it troubled her a great deal. She didn't have time to oversleep, she had chores to get to if she wanted to leave on time.

She struggled towards consciousness, fighting the fog that had insinuated itself around her form, but try as she might to move she found even that small victory beyond her. She tried to recall what she'd done the nigh before to make herself so tired, but she could remember nothing. Blackness.

She struggled harder, both to move and remember, but the cloud had slipped into her head, coating her thoughts in a sticky hazy and the harder she struggled the thicker it became.

She needed desperately to remember, but her mind was horribly blank. Blackness, nothing. Darkness…screaming? Whose screaming? A horse, Sarah, lights flashing…hands, shouting. Pain! Voices…

The memories returned in a jumbled stream. Her mind shied away from them, and the pain they brought. No, she didn't want to remember that part.

Easier to stay here, in the cloud.

Easier to drift, to float, to sleep…

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When next she woke, the first thing that Kathy was aware of was the bed she was laying on. Not that she had anything against beds, but this one was completely foreign to her. It certainly wasn't one from home, nor was it one of her friends beds. The sheets had the scratchy, over-starched feel that she'd come to associate with a hospital ward, and she wondered just how sick she was to have blanked out the drive into town. The cloud that had previously supported her was ebbing now, replaced by a chemically induced haze; good painkillers.

Kathy tried to lift her head, but her aching muscles refused to obey. She managed to twitch a bit and that was all.

The next thing she was aware of was the sound of voices speaking quickly, in hurried tones somewhere off to the side of her.

"…word on the Williams girl?...last….called her relatives…"

"…Not since she left…"

"Do they know where she was headed?"

"No, and no one seems to…getting her phone number…"

"–Too late to change it now…"

"...her name…"

"Sarah…Only one who saw the accident…said…"

Kathy frowned, she knew on some inner level that the words were important, but she couldn't for the life of her remember how.

The word 'Sarah' wandered through her mind, looking for something to connect with…

"Oh, I think she's waking up a bit now. I'll just change the IV before she comes to all the way." A kindly face floated into Kathy's field of vision, the woman gave her what she was sure was meant to be a reassuring smile. Unfortunately from Kathy's point of view it looked more like a grimace.

"Don't you worry now, honey." The nurse, or at least Kathy assumed she was a nurse, said quietly, "I'll bet you're feeling a bit strange just now, but don't fuss over it. It's the painkilling drugs Dr. Maldonado has you on, nothing to be upset over."

Kathy smiled groggily at her. Drugs were wonderful things…

She could feel the cloud beckoning to her, sliding over her limbs and her thoughts, drawing her back down into oblivion. "I've been in the same position you're in now, honey," the nurse said, "So I know you can probably hear me, and if you can, you should rest. It's a miracle really that you're alive at all…"

The nurses' voice faded in and out as the word 'miracle' wandered through Kathy's head looking for something to connect with.

"…so nice of that uncle of yours to visit you…a bit strange though…that cape…"

A few moments passed and Kathy slipped farther back into the warmth of the cloud. Then, suddenly, slam! Bang! It connected…but it was too late. She was already to close to the edge, the last thing she remembered before she slipped back into dreams, was:::_Shit! This is gonna be so bad…:::_

That last bit turned out to be prophetic.

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_ A gentle breeze blew across the open field, the spring green stalks of grass leaving strokes of dew across her calves. The blades brushed along her bare skin, tickling her, until she batted the grass away irritably. The pale yellow skirt she wore flapped softly in the breeze, dancing with the currents. To the younger girl she was, the billowing sleeves of her blouse seemed like wings, as though if she only tried, she might float away on the wind. _

_ The breeze turned harder, howling through the trees now, and her long hair lifted off her neck as a shiver passed down her spine. _

_ "Lianna?" a woman's voice called, carried to her on the wind. _

_ Dark red hair, darker than it had any right to be, blew across her face as Kathy whipped around, hands clenched at her sides. That voice was one that now haunted her dreams, she had hoped she'd never have to hear it sound again. She never wanted to hear it, to fall under it's command, ever again, and a feeling of foreboding crept into her chest. _

_ The woman walked up to her, her straight, shoulder-length pale hair whipping in the wind. "Lianna, you should know better…" she said softly. "You shouldn't be out here." _

_ "I'm not Lianna!" Kathy shrieked. Angry tears streamed down her face no matter how hard she fought them. Her throat tightened in anger and pain. "Lianna is dead! She's dead! And I will never be her, no matter how badly you want it! Stop trying to make me! I won't!" _

_ The woman stared blankly-resignedly-at the girl crying in front of her, her face contorted with rage as she fought to hide her tears. "You are Lianna, little one." The woman replied coldly, "You were born Lianna, and you cannot change that. Changing a name means nothing, changes nothing. You were created as Lianna…and Lianna is who you are." _

_ The tears fell harder, faster, "I'm not Lianna! Lianna is_ DEAD_! She's dead! She died when I was little! How can she rest in peace if you won't let her go?!" Kathy shrieked. She sank to her knees in the soft cool grass, the stalks now on eye level with her as the tears streamed down her face, her hands clenched into fists. _

_ The blonde woman sighed again, and turned as if to leave, then paused. "Maybe Lianna is dead." She replied icily, "But if she is, it's because _you_ killed her…"_

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(A/N) Thanx for the reviews I have no doubts are on the way : ) You know I live and breathe to read them, or if you didn't now you do! As always, constructive criticism is very much appreciated.


	8. Into the Spiral

(A/N) This is a recent edit, (as of 4/07/08) The dialogue between Jareth and Sarah after the ahem-as-I-try-not-to-spoil-it inciden needed some freshening up. I hope to have GASP a new chapter up by the end of the week but no promises. My car is dead right now so I have other things on my mind at the moment.

Thanks for bothering to stick with me, you guys/girls/what-have-you's seriously rock!

_**DISCLAIMER**__**: I OWN IT….not….**_

_for clarification please refer to previous disclaimers…._

**II DISCLAIMER: **Garth Nix get's the credit for the Spiral Library. (No jokes or anything) Hats' off to him.

_**STATEMENT: I meant absolutely no insult to anyone from Japan who might be **_

_**reading this, it was just a pain in the butt to ship my computer there…**_

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CHAPTER VIII - Into the Spiral

As Jareth watched the girl astride the great black horse, he couldn't help but smile along with her. Her hair was tousled from the ride, her face flushed with excitement and a mad grin split her features as she praised the stallion up one side and down the other.

Though he was loathe to admit it, Jareth knew that the damnable beast was probably worth his weight in gold. With the training he'd had put into him, and his impeccable breeding, he could probably turn his weight in gold even if Jareth decided to sell him then and there.

He smiled ruefully; better get his chuckles now, he was always in a foul mood after loosing a bet.

_"Well, well…what have we here?"_

Even as he stepped away from the shady cover of the trees, Jareth knew he'd made a mistake. He appeared, seemingly out of the ether, in front of the animal, who, to his credit, did what any sensible horse would do in that situation. In true jumper style, Cheval had perfected a way to simultaneously rear, leap, twist in mid-air and land several yards away in the same span that it took Sarah to think, _Shit! This is gonna be so bad-!_

Jareth saw it coming, felt his blood run cold, and he knew he'd never be able to get to them in time. His traitorous mind instantly provided him with a whole list of possible injuries, while reminding him of the fact that he had the magickal healing ability of your average goldfish. _Shit._

Sarah landed on her back in the grass with a dull thud that effectively knocked the breath out of her. She opened her mouth to call out, but all she could manage was a small wheezing noise.

Sarah had always considered herself a fairly sturdy person, to the point that she was usually on her feet after a fall in seconds. At that particular moment, all she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep for a week or so, and she could already feel the bruises forming.

"uhhh…" well, it was better than the wheezing…

"Sarah!" She turned her head at the sound of her name to see Jareth pelting towards her through the tall grass, even as Cheval danced nervously away. " 's okay, buddy boy." she breathed. Spectacular! Her voice was actually responding. Jareth slid to a halt beside her. "Lie still."

She wheezed her agreement; it sounded like a perfectly wonderful idea to her.

"Can you feel all your fingers? Toes? No-don't try to get up yet." everything seemed to be in working order. Half way through her check she realized Jareth was muttering rebukes at her, "…don't know what you were thinking….deranged beast could probably snap you in two…broken your silly neck…"

She decided she'd rested long enough; nothing had fallen off, and if she waited much longer to move her bruised body would stiffen more than it already had. She was definitely going to feel this one in the morning. Climbing to her feet, she tried her legs and was pleased to find them reasonably useful.

"I'm fine." she groaned, "Bruised maybe…" she twisted, carefully stretching her arms as far as they would go overhead until she heard something pop and felt marginally better. "…but nothing Ibuprophen can't fix." her back spasmed, complaining at the range of motion the movement required, "I think…"

Jareth gave her an odd look, "Ibuprophen…I suppose he's a physician, but the name isn't ringing any bells. Do I know him?"

Sarah groaned again, putting real feeling into it now, "You people do have painkillers, don't you? You know, aspirin, Tylenol, Motrin, Ibuprophen…pills?" _Oh please, please let him be joking…._

Sarah's mind wandered back to the super sized bottle of Motrin she had sitting on her desk back home. _B-e-a-utiful_...

He shook his head, "There's no need. Even in the Goblin City we have fully capable and highly qualified healers."

"Great-!" she snapped, "Just perfect! Fat lot of good that does me now! Why don't I just…" she let her sentence trail off.

She was doing it again; Lynn had warned her about taking her temper out on hapless passerby. The second time she'd tried it had earned her a whack on the arm with a riding crop. It was a habit she had been trying to break.

"I was trying to help."

She sighed, "Sorry. I suppose it's not really your fault." Jareth gave her a smug look. "This time, anyway."

Why did this always happen? No matter what the subject, or how benign the conversation she and Jareth always managed to end up at each others throats. She didn't mean it to happen, he just seemed to bring out the worst sort of whining, griping, teenager in her.

"It's weird, no matter what we're talking about, we always wind up arguing…" she whispered.

"I noticed. Although, technically you did start this whole thing."

"What!!" _there, that's what I get for trying to be nice!_

"You were the one to wish me up, Sarah. It isn't my fault if my presence sheds light on things you'd rather be left un-illuminated."

Sarah opened her mouth to argue, then flapped it shut. He did have a point.

"You know what I wish, honestly? I wish that once, just _once_, we might finish a conversation without it turning into a fight."

"We do seem to make a habit of it." his voice was calm.

"Well, if you would stop dragging me off to worlds unknown, that might improve my temper just a bit." she said sardonically.

"Sarah, my dear, you are truly a walking, breathing contradiction, you do know that, don't you?" The jibe wasn't meant to sting, but it did all the same. She was too used to her classmates taunts, to being the 'odd one', or 'the strange girl'

"You think _I'm_ a contradiction?"

He grinned, "Why, yes, actually. I do."

"You claim to want a normal life, yet you pour over fantasy novels, you throw yourself into acting and playing at being anything and everything-anything to escape the world you live in, and now, you're vexed with me for obliging your wishes by providing you with the very escape you so desperately sought, _and _for pointing it out. No-don't try to deny it, I can see it in your eyes." he smiled, "Is it so terrible for you to admit you might actually like it here? That the Underground might not be a horrible as you want to believe?"

"I never said it was," she snapped "I don't hate it here, and I certainly do not _want_ the Underground to be horrible, I am stuck here you know!"

"Perhaps, then, you can educate me as to why you try so hard to make everyone believe that you do?"

"I don't hate it," she repeated, "it's just…different."

"Obviously."

"Jareth-"

"Oh, very well." He decided it was time to change tactics. "If it is not 'horrible' here, and you do not hate the Underground, why do you avoid it so?"

Sarah sighed. How could she make him understand when she wasn't really sure that he _didn't _already understand. She could never be sure when he was poking fun at her and when he was serious-it was exhausting to be so constantly off balance.

"Jareth, it's another world! It's so different from everything I've ever known. I don't hate it, really I don't, I just…I don't understand it. I know the rules are different here, but I don't know what they are…"

"You could learn."

"Not easily."

"Nothing worth having is easy to acquire…well, almost nothing."

"Jareth, I think you've missed my point."

He gave her a superior smirk, "Well, then tell me, Sarah, what is so very special about your world that you prefer it so. The fact that it is familiar does not count."

He's not going to let this drop. "It _is_ familiar. All my family is there; my friends, everyone I've ever met, my job-"

"You've already made many friends. And you seem to be fitting into the position you've been given. There are still plenty of people you've yet to meet here in the Underground." he pointed out logically.

"What about college!" she countered, sure that this point couldn't be pushed aside so easily.

"What about it?"

"I want to go!"

"The City boasts a highly respected university, Sarah. We have had students from almost every corner of the Underground."

"Well, we have pain killers, and cars and convenience stores."

"First off, I think we both know perfectly well what mode of transportation you prefer." Sarah realized that the riding helmet was still dangling from her fingers, "Secondly, a qualified healer more than makes up for pain killing substitutes. And last of all," he gave her an especially smug grin as he pulled his hand from behind his back with a flourish, presenting her with her bottle of Motrin. "What could possibly be more convenient than this?"

Sarah accepted the bottle with a shrug. _Alright, he's got that one._

She was determined not to let him win without a fight. "We have cell phones and indoor plumbing!" she crowed.

"Well, we have immortals and unicorns."

Now she really was confused. "What do immortals have to do with plumbing?"

"Nothing at all. But given the choice of seeing a bathtub or seeing a unicorn, which would you choose?"

"I suppose it'd depend on how much I wanted a hot bath."

Even Jareth chuckled at that.

"Granted, my dear, granted. But surely you can see my point. You do give the impression that you would like nothing more than a chance such as this, yet when it is presented you, you can't wait for it to be over and done with. You _are_ a contradiction, Sarah, just when I think I've got you figured out, you dash off and do something like this…" he smiled, "I have to admit, I have never found anyone quite like you."

Sarah frowned at the renewed sting from his earlier comments.

"Well perhaps if you hadn't been spying on me, without my permission I might add, you wouldn't be so confused over what I was reading now would you?"

"Well would you have given you permission if I'd asked?" that friendly, joking tone was gone. Replaced by the haughty Jareth she had come to expect.

Sarah snorted, angry with herself for letting herself get so frazzled over a what was obviously a misunderstanding and angry with him for being so quick to notice it. "And I fail to see just how what I read is any of your business."

"It isn't." he said simply, "I was merely pointing out a fact."

"Well maybe if you stopped to think of someone besides yourself, namely me and what little privacy I already have, you wouldn't have to!" she snapped.

Jareth chuckled, "Am I to understand that you find me arrogant?"

The truth of it was that he _was_ arrogant. He knew it, and she knew it, and both of them knew that the other knew it, but Jareth couldn't resist the chance to tweak her just a bit more.

Sarah realized then that-as usual-he was trying to bait her into saying something that she'd regret. And up until that point, it had been working…

She smiled sweetly at him, pouring every ounce of false sweetness she possessed into that smile. If that was how he wanted it, fine; two could play at that game.

"Well," she said slowly, considering her options, "Not arrogant, exactly…I think spoiled was closer to what I had in mind."

"Spoilt?" his voice was just a tad bit strained.

Her grin widened.

"Actually I said 'spoiled' but that's close enough."

"Oh, ho? And how's that?" Arrogant was one thing, but spoilt? It was hardly possible for him to get a moment to himself, he did have a horde of rambling, babbling, drooling goblins to manage, after all.

"Look over there, in the front pasture." she said, pointing to the one she had in mind, "Tell me what you see."

Jareth took a moment to study the space in question. He didn't like the smug expression she was currently wearing, no, he didn't like it one bit. In fact, he had a sinking feeling that he was about to have his proverbial ass handed to him on a silver platter. "I don't know…grass? Horses?"

Sarah snorted, "Yes, horses…Now, out of curiosity, how much did they cost you?"

He looked blankly at her. That nagging, sinking feeling had increased, but for the life of him he couldn't see it coming.

"Come on then, Jareth, how much?"

"I fail to see the point of all this."

"I can see you're going to be difficult about this. Lets just say more than the average goblin-Joe has on hand for a splurge." He shrugged non-committaly. "And when, Jareth, was the last time you rode any of those admittedly expensive, immortal horses?" This was the real clincher, if she guessed wrong then the whole thing fell through, but she was willing to bet he had more than a few things in common with the upper crust snobs that inhabited most high dollar horse barns.

Jareth chuckled, "Why would I need to? We have perfectly good stable hands to exercise them. Of course, I will be riding Judgment to the fair."

Sarah grinned. _Bingo_.

"That's not my point. Just because it isn't strictly necessary to keep them in top form doesn't mean you can't enjoy riding, or just spending time with them. When was the last time you rode any of them just for fun?" he didn't answer, "Or…played with the foals? Groomed them, petted them? Brought them the extra carrots from the kitchen just because you knew they'd enjoy it?"

She laughed, "Jareth, you have everything there is to have-I'm not just talking about horses here-and it still doesn't bring you even a tiny shred of happiness. There's something fundamentally wrong with that, you know."

"First I'm arrogant, then I'm spoilt, and now I'm to understand that I have no joy? How in the world did I manage that?"

"I'm not really sure but somehow you make it work." she snorted, "Kinda like your white hair."

" 'White' hair? I do not have 'white hair'." this is really going to far, "It's blonde, corn silk, yellow if you must!"

Sarah smiled, _Finally; something to needle him with…_

"Fae _do not_ have white hair." he muttered.

"Fae?" she asked, her curiosity suddenly aroused. "Is that what you are?"

He looked a bit taken aback, "Well of course. What had you thought I was?"

"Well, I'd always thought you were…well, a goblin."

"A goblin?" he raised one brow, "You jest."

"Well, no. Not really. You do introduce yourself as 'the Goblin King' so it always stood to reason that you were a goblin too. Albeit a very tall, musically inclined, handsome goblin." She bit her tongue even as her traitorous lips continued on all on their own. She shouldn't have said it, it would only inflate his already swollen ego…if that was even possible.

_Handsome…?_ There were _soooo_ many interesting places this could go.

"Handsome, eh?"

Sarah stared at him, in a mixture of shock and horror as the meaning of what she had said registered in her brain.

He knew he shouldn't. It was wrong. So completely, entirely utterly wrong; it was the sort of thing he'd wake up regretting for a long time to come. If he did it now, she'd never forgive him.

He tried, he really did, but it was impossible. He just couldn't help it, the look on her face was just so damn funny.

A terrible, wicked giggle clawed its way out of his throat, then a snort. Then a chuckle, and finally a full blow laugh that left him clutching his sides and gasping for breath.

Just then, Sarah wasn't sure whether the urge to smack him or the desire to find a hole and just hide in it was stronger._ I said it; I've no one to blame but myself. Oh God, he'll never let me live this down._

Sarah could see it now, there she was, a wrinkled, eighty something year old lady, feeding the birds with her grandkids and suddenly Jareth would pop out from behind a dust bin, cackling at her over how she'd called him handsome.

_That hole is looking more and more attractive…_

Incredibly, a tiny gulp of laughter escaped her.

She didn't have any idea why, but it really _was_ funny. Laughter bubbled up out of her throat, until she was clutching her aching sides as she gasped for breath. Just when Sarah thought she had it under control, he grinned at her, setting her off all over again.

"This is you're fault you know-!" she shrieked, wiping at her streaming eyes, "You've always brought out the worst in me, ever since I was a little girl!'

"Well it was mutual!" he gasped, his face a mix of a smile and a grimace, his sides burning with the simple effort of breathing.

Eventually they managed to regain their composure and start heading back. Jareth made a ridiculously flamboyant 'Ladies-first' gesture before falling in beside her. He studied her sidelong as they walked-slowly-back towards the barns, wondering how best to turn the situation to his advantage.

Sarah was doing her best to hide her newly acquired limp, in that respect she had always thought of Jareth like a large, dangerous predator ready to pounce; she couldn't afford to show weakness.

Nor did she stop to look for her wayward horse. Over the years, she'd had enough separations that were not mutually agreed upon while out on a hack to know that the most likely place for her errant equine was back in his own safe pasture, more importantly were the food was. She had no doubts that, like any other self-respecting, spooked, horse, Cheval had taken one look at Jareth's instant apparition and high-tailed back home. If, and only if, he couldn't be found on her return, would she start to search in earnest.

They walked in a slightly uncomfortable silence for a while, Sarah's limp becoming more and more pronounced. This would-and wouldn't-do… If she was in too much pain to attend the fair most of his plan would need to be reworked or scrapped entirely. It was also the perfect opportunity to throw her off balance again…

Jareth stopped, putting a hand on her shoulder to turn her around to face him. He cleared his throat, "Perhaps, Sarah, you should take the rest of the day to yourself. To…er…recuperate." _Yes! Good! Civil, caring; sure to win points!_

She gave him a look to melt glaciers, and pointedly jerked out of his grasp. "Alright, Jareth. What do you want?"

"What?!" How had he gone wrong now?!

"You're never this nice unless there's something you want. What is it?"

Jareth did his best to seem genuinely wounded. He wanted her to see him as something other than the villain. True, he had manipulated the situation to try and achieve this, but surely that didn't count against him? How else would he ever get anywhere with this ludicrous idea of his?

"Sarah my dear you wound me." he laid one gloved hand over his heart. Before seeming to reconsider,

"Then again, if you'd rather I find some chore for you to complete, I'm sure I could dream up a few interesting…_tasks_…to suit. If that's what you want, of course." Sarah didn't even want to consider exactly what sort of tasks he'd find interesting, though judging from his voice and the way he was eyeing her like a hungry dog eyes a steak, she could make an educated guess. The horrified look on her face was enough to make him regret the offer, well, for the most part.

He sighed, it chaffed at him to control his temper, as it wasn't something he was accustomed to needing to do. "Sarah, I would like you to take the remainder of the day off. the goblins will assist you with dinner, as I have other business to attend to tonight."

There was no way it was really that simple. This was the same man who had tortured her for nearly thirteen hours, twisted her emotions to suit his own whims. Jareth The-Goblin-King, ruler of all he surveyed, the perverted bastard who had seen fit to spy on her doing Gods knew what over the years, did _not_ give people the afternoon off.

"Jareth I don't-"

"It was not a request, Sarah." He snapped. "But don't worry my dear, I'm sure I'll find some way for you to make it up to me."

Shaking her head, Sarah changed direction and started the long trek up to the castle. Leave it to Jareth to turn giving someone a day off into an insult _and_ a debt. Still…there had been something….

She gave herself a mental slap. _No, bad Sarah! Do your time, get it over with. Period!_

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When Sarah woke the next morning there was only one thought burning in her brain. It. Was. _Hot_.

Really hot.

Truly, insanely, unbearably hot.

_A real otherworldly summer._ She thought sourly.

Though she wasn't aware of it, nor was there any reason for her to be, it _was_ in fact a real other worldly summer. During the summer months, the lands south of the Northern wood-including Jareth's kingdom-took on all the soothing qualities of a sweltering oven.

With a groan Sarah peeled back the coverlet, but it did little to relieve the sticky heat that hung in the air. It was barely past dawn and already the sun was beating down with on the Labyrinth with renewed fury, burning away the mist that had rolled in off the lake the first few mornings of her stay.

Though she'd left the window open the night before in the hopes of attracting a wayward breeze, the air was dead still and her skin was already sheened in sweat. _Damn._

There was nothing else for it; she'd have to take another bath. Not that she was against bathing in general, normally you couldn't have paid her not to shower at least twice a day. But this was the Labyrinth. Which of course meant that nothing was normal. Especially when this particular labyrinth was run and, more to the point, observed, by a very self assured Goblin King. There was no telling when and where one of those damned crystals of his would pop up.

She glanced at the door. More to the point, she glanced at the door that had no locking mechanism on it. _What to use…?_ her eyes traveled over the sparse furniture of her room, and came to rest on a small wooden chair, carved to match the simple desk it sat next to. _Perfect._

The chair was just the right size. Sarah jammed the back of the chair under the bronze door handle, jingling it a few times just to be sure it would hold, before turning back to the bath.

She'd worn shorts and what she was fairly sure was properly called a tunic to bed, and stripped then and there as she turned the spigots on. Steaming water gushed from the faucet and Sarah blessed the Underground for inventing indoor plumbing by then. She was loathe to think about what she'd have to do otherwise.

By the time the tub was full, the room was filled with clouds steam, and Sarah slid into the tub with a sigh.

God-! But it was good to feel clean again! She swished her head this way and that, turning her hair to rinse away the smell of horse and the sweat from the sweltering heat, and reach for what she hoped was a jar of shampoo.

It was, and-she noted sourly-it smelled distinctly of peaches. Shrugging, she lathered it into her hair anyway-she knew she shouldn't complain, she was lucky to have a room in place of a cell, let alone ironically scented shampoo.

By the time she felt close to human again, the water had cooled to tepid at best, and she had gained a startling resemblance to a raisin. None of which mattered in her mind. For the last hour or so, her room had been a crystal-free zone, for which she was intensely thankful. Of course, it did make her wondering just what a certain Goblin-King was up to…

She shrugged it off. Better not to know.

Wringing her wet curls over the tub, she pulled a towel off the shelves and turned around to find her clothes, coming face to face with Justine in the process.

"Oh-my-God!"

Sarah let out a shriek to wake the dead. Leaping backwards, she collided with the claw footed tub, sending waves of soapy bath water over the edge to pool on the floor.

Justine stood in the doorway, cool and calm and-if Sarah hadn't known better-she'd have sworn that the younger girl looked just a bit pleased with herself.

"Jareth sent me to fetch you." Justine informed her coolly. "You are to report to him in his study." She looked Sarah up and down, seeming to make a mental note of her dripping hair and towel, "I would personally suggest getting dressed before we leave."

Sarah nodded. At the moment, recalling exactly how to breathe was taking up most of her concentration. The smug little grin on Justine's face told her that the girl had gotten exactly the reaction she'd been looking for.

"Of course, if you'd rather not, I don't think he'll complain. He won't notice much of anything until the fair get's started at the end of the week."

Sarah nodded reluctantly and snatched her blouse up off the floor before it could be entirely soaked. It would have to do. Damned if she'd wear any of the more, ahem, _daringly_ cut tops that a certain Goblin King had seen fit to include in her wardrobe.

"Some time while we're still young would be nice!" Justine quipped, as Sarah pulled on the peasant skirt from her first night in the castle. "Well, maybe if you'd give a girl some warning…"

"Hey, I don't have all day here, hon. Of course, if you think you can manage to get yourself to the Spiral Library without getting lost?" she glanced over her shoulder at Sarah, a wicked grin on her face. " thought not. Hurry up."

Library. Something about the location stuck in Sarah's mind. She tried to recall the layout of the Castle that Hoggle had shown her, and realized what it was.

If Jareth had come from the Library, he would have to go to the opposite end of the grounds to tell Justine to come back to the northeast corner of the castle to get Sarah-or so she'd thought. Which made no sense whatsoever. Sarah mentioned as much.

"Well, technically Jareth asked second assistant librarian Greeves to fetch you," Justine said in a pained voice, "he subsequently passed the job on to the Hob, who told Augusta in passing who then told me to come and get you and take you to the library, and well, here we are. It was simpler to tell you that Jareth sent me."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Anyway. He's probably wanting to talk to you about the Midsummer Ball. Since I know you're wondering what I'm talking about, the Midsummer Ball is held after the first day of the Fair. It's this big Fae, highborn…thingy; boring, formal; prom with swords. You get the idea."

Sarah had to choke down a giggle as she tried to imagine her high school class in Underground attire and carrying swords. The two things mixed _almost_ as well as oil and water.

Still smiling, she turned her attention back to Justine, "This may be a silly question, but why is called the Spiral Library?"

"That's an excellent question, I'm so glad you asked that Sarah." Justine said, her voice overly chipper, "Library 101. First off, it's big. Huge really. The first circuit is almost a mile and a half, that should give you some idea-" Sarah cut her off,

"Circuit?"

Justine sighed, "It's where the name comes from. See, the library's shaped like a nautilus shell. The main tunnel starts here at the base of the castle and winds down several thousand feet into the rock of the mountain in a tightening spiral. It's basically a long twisted ramp."

It sounded…interesting. "So that's all it is? Just a big spiral of book cases? Wouldn't a regular library work just as well for that?"

"No. it's not just a big spiral book case, that would be silly!"

_Right; Magickal underground kingdom full of goblins; realistic. Spiral bookcase? 'Silly', indeed!_

"Now, are you going to let me talk or what? Okay, off the main tunnel there're hundreds of rooms and corridors and other passages-don't look at me like that! I'm only telling you what I've heard!-Most of the rooms hold records, treaties, documents, legal shit like that. But they've also go books from every kingdom in the Underground, scrolls, maps, spells, recipes, inventories, memoirs, stories true and false. There are weapons that are always sharp, always oiled, even though no one's touched them in centuries, water that burns, fire that doesn't, there are trees older than the Above, with spell globes that shine brighter than the sun to keep them alive. Sarah-! If you can imagine it, it's in the Great Spiral Library."

"Mystical library…that's handy."

Justine snorted, "Yeah, okay, the long-winded point is that Jareth wanted to see you and he's in his office in the library at the top of the spiral. Turn left down this corridor here, first door on your right, it'll be green with oak paneling. Chief Librarian Daencielle will take you to Jareths' personal study-Sarah? Are you listening to me?!"

_(A/N - Dancielle; you say it like Dane-see-ell)_

The obvious answer to Justine's question was not-in-the-slightest, but Sarah was completely enthralled, and completely unable to tell Justine as much.

Laid out before her was, quite frankly, the grandest, largest, and if she was any judge, the most expensive library she had ever seen. Sarah was sure that she could have fit her house into this one room several times over, and still not come close to filling the chamber. The ceiling stretched upwards some thirty or forty feet as though from some great European cathedral, ending in arched rafters hung with glow globes that cast a steady, candle like glow over the main room, while plush green carpet stretched away underfoot like the thickest grass.

But it was more than the sheer size of the room that silenced her, it was the books. Piles of books. Stacks, rows, mountains of books lined the room housed in enormous oak shelves that covered the walls and extended out ward to create a veritable maze of books. In the center of the room were rows of wooden tables and desks, most piled high with stacks of important looking paperwork. The single wall devoid of bookcases, was blanketed in a huge, canvas map, and Sarah had a feeling that looking it over would only confuse her more about where she was exactly.

"Alright, alright. I know, it's very impressive, books, room, map, all that jazz. Got it. Now, as I was saying…Down that corridor to the left, first door on your right. You're looking for Daencielle."

Sarah nodded her understanding. Oh, to be sure, there were pleanty of words floating around her brain, but at the moment she didn't seem capable of stringing them together to form cohesive sentences.

"Oh, and don't ask her anything."

"Right."

"And, don't mention the whole, 'I-solved-the-labyrinth' thing. She'll go all spastic-librarian on you."

"Sure."

"Oh, and whatever you do, Don't. Touch. The jewelry."

"Right. No jewelry. Got it." Somehow Sarah managed to force out a reply.

"Sarah, when I said go, I meant some time today."

"Wait, what? But I thought you were supposed to take me?" Sarah whined, the meaning of Justines' words finally filtering through her brain.

She sounded like a petulant child, as she well knew, but she just couldn't help herself. She was tired, cranky, and still more than a little sore from her fall the day before. In all, she was in no mood to meet new-and potentially frightening-Fae librarians.

"No, I was supposed to fetch you. I did. I don't have time to be running all over Gods' green creation just so you don't get yourself lost, or eaten, or whatever!" Justine gave her a hard shove in the general direction of the corridor. "I'm not here to baby-sit you, Sarah. Now go!-you know how he is when you keep him waiting."

She threw Justine her dirtiest glare over her shoulder, but took a few steps towards the corridor anyway.

_Great. All I need is a psychotic librarian to make my day complete. Just perfect._

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(A/N) -Okay, I know you need more action. (gimme a break okay?! I'm feeling seriously guilty for not updating in so long so here ya go.) I can however promise another one in less than a week! (I swear!!)

Anyway, again, the credit for the Spiral Library all goes to Garth Nix.

Oh, and review, I need em. You send em. -


	9. The Spiral Propper

(A/N) - Alright, people, here you go- 25 freakin' pages in size 11 font. It's my apology for taking so long to update last time…I realize the chapter before this may have seemed a bit rushed. Well, that's because it was. It was one of those times when I wanted to just hurry up and get where I'm going. If you don't like it, well, frankly, you're not alone. (it will eventually be redone, but not just now.)

**DISCLAIMER:** Let me see, Augusta; mine, Justine; mine,…Jason mine….Oh, hang on. What's this? Labyrinth…_not_ mine….

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**CHAPTER IX **- The Spiral Proper 

Parchments were piled in five groups of varying heights on Jareths' desk; Fix-it-now, This-can-wait, Taken-care-of, Too-depressing-to-contemplate, and Don't-make-me-laugh. A six collection, recently delivered by a blue coated librarians' assistant, waited on a chair nearby; To-be-sorted. That pile was twice as tall as the others.

Jareth threw the papers a dour glare. If his gift had been of that nature, the entire stack would have ignited, but it wasn't, so it didn't, and that meant he had to do something about it.

Well, he'd been 'doing something' about the sorry mess his so called kingdom was in since just before dawn, and he'd damned well had enough. His aching muscles as he levered himself out of his chair whole heartedly agreed with him.

In the stone-hewn chambers beneath the rock line, an ever present chill rolled off the walls, even during the hottest summer months. Caught without a cloak, he shivered. Jareth let his gave linger on the scenes laid out on the tapestried walls in painstaking detail, letting the colors sooth him. Cool greens and blues of the woods and oceans, rich reds, brilliant sunflower yellows, each stitch true to life, showing past hunts, memorable battles, banquets from a bygone era.

What he wouldn't give to be able to turn the clock for himself.

To go back that far. Life had been, well, if not simple, satisfying. There had been a certain security in knowing exactly what the future held, knowing that his life's course was already mapped and recorded.

But most of all there had been time. Limitless, abundant, blessed time. Time to do with as he pleased, time to pursue anything and everything, while Jason followed his own plans for the Kingdom. Oh, he was quite immortal, to be sure, but that sense of freedom, of being able to postpone the things he didn't want to face until a later date was gone.

Jareth sighed. Speaking of postponing trying ordeals, Sarah was due to arrive at any time. He had sent assistant librarian Greeves after her some time ago-no doubt the menial task had been passed off on some unsuspecting underling by now-but the message should have reached her none the less.

_There_ at least was some light to this whole sorry business; with Sarah Williams at the castle, life may not have been simple, but at least it was no longer boring…

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**S**arah made her way slowly, with the utmost caution through the dusty paths between the shelves toward the corridor that Justine had pointed out. Dust bloomed under her foot falls, and that certain musty odor of books permeated the room. As she walked, her eyes roamed over the titles of the books she passed; Creatures by Malii, The Armethalian Almanac, and Gnome Magick were among the titles that caught her eye. Despite the wealth of intriguing titles, she kept her hands strictly to herself, taking care not to touch anything. Justines' words were still on her mind, and though the books look harmless, this was still the labyrinth; the only thing she could be sure of was that nothing was what it seemed.

The green carpet extended down the hall, which was curved just enough so that it was impossible to see where it ended or began once inside of it. Sarah rotated her shoulders, trying to work out the knot of tension that had formed between them. She could swear that someone was watching her, more so than simply Jareth spying, and more than once she thought she heard footsteps up a head, but the corridor remained empty.

As she began to wonder whether or not Justine had sent her down the wrong corridor, a large double door came into view on her right. The brass door knockers reminded her of the ones she'd seen in the labyrinth, but these knockers seemed to be inanimate.

Just as she was reaching for one of the rings, a shout bellowed out from just inside the doors. "Greeves! If you don't have that report ready there'll be hell to pay!" Sarah assumed it was Chief Librarian Daencielle.

"Do not keep me waiting, worm, for I am in a foul mood! Get. In. Here!"

Before Sarah had time to wonder what was happening, one of the doors swung open and she found herself hustled inside by the scruff of her collar more quickly than she would have thought possible.

A sturdy, gray hair woman shoved a stack of papers into her arms without looking at Sarah herself. "What in Gods names do you think you're playing at Gree-Oh dear."

Daencielle cut herself off mid-sentence, realizing that it was not her useless assistant Greeves who'd been standing outside her door, but a human girl would could only be the Girl; Sarah Williams. She released her hold on the girls' arm, removing her of the papers which she'd shoved at her. "Oh, so sorry my dear. I mistook you for someone you are not."

Sarah nodded quickly, "No, no. It's fine."

"Yes, well, I'm sure it is. Is there something I can do for you, girl?" Daencielle said over her shoulder, straightening the papers, she moved back behind a large, oak paneled desk and began to file them back into the multitude of other such stacks.

Sarah got the impression that the Chief was the sort of person who hated to waste time.

"Are you Chief Daencielle?"

Sarah glanced over the desk that stood between them, it piled high with inventories, books, and the remains of that mornings' breakfast left half eaten on the brass tray on which it had been brought. Next to the tray rested a silver bladed sword, unsheathed, the hilt within easy reach of Daencielle's hand.

"I am. What is it that you need?"

"I'm supposed to report to Jareth in his study in the Spiral Library, but I didn't know the way so Justine sent me to you.

Daencielle paused. "So, you wish to enter the Spiral." It was not phrased as a question.

Though she was only slightly taller than Sarah herself, and separated by the desk, the Fae woman seemed to loom over the younger girl. Her eyes were a brilliant platinum blue, while her hair was the soft grey of cooling ash. Other than that, there was nothing about her to suggest she was anything other than the bloom of adulthood, yet Sarah guessed that she was meeting one of her first 'older' immortals.

She had a voice that Sarah would definitely have put into the no-nonsense category back home. "Well, I'm just trying to get to Jareths' study, but if its-"

Daencielle continued as though she hadn't spoken, "But are you suitable? There has never been a mortal within the halls of the Great Spiral for more than ten centuries…What makes you think you should be allowed to enter?"

Inwardly, Sarah groaned. She had the feeling that it was going to be one of those terribly exhausting days that went on forever.

"Well, I solved the labyrinth." she supplied hopefully.

"Yes, yes, I suppose you did…" Daencielle mused. She laid her hand on the hilt of the sword and for a moment Sarah thought she would wave it around to see if it frightened her.

Sarah was already frightened, though she did her utmost to hide it. The librarian scared her, even without the sword. Her face gave away no hint of emotion beyond mild curiosity and she moved with a certain economy of force as though at any moment she might explode into violent action.

"Are you suitable…?" Daencielle repeated.

She came out from behind her desk, so fast that Sarah wondered if she'd blinked and missed the movement. "We have never had a mortal in the Great Spiral Library." she said, looking Sarah over from head to foot. "But then again, you are no ordinary mortal girl. You are the mortal who solved the mystery of the Labyrinth."

Sarah nodded mutely. Whatever Daencielle was getting at, she wanted no part of it.

"So, you are a mystery." Daencielle smiled, "And there is no better place for a mystery than the Spiral Library; better to be a scholar than a part of the collection, I suppose."

Sarah chuckled nervously, "True. Does..does that mean I'm suitable?"

Daencielle answered with a wicked, feral grin, "We'll just have to see about that, won't we?" She laid the sword back in its place atop her desk, and motioned to the door, "Come, Jareth will be expecting you, and it would be best not to keep him waiting."

Daencielle ushered her down the main tunnel, or at least Sarah assumed it was the main tunnel; it was certainly the largest of those she had seen, and deeper into the spiral. Though they passed several doors that looked promising, but each one was blocked off by red rope and a wax seal stamped with a griffon.

Daencielle ignored the doors, completely focused on reaching her destination, her long, ground eating stride meant that Sarah was nearly running to keep pace with her. Despite her small statue the older woman practically oozed confidence, and Sarah felt more secure with Daencielle in the dim bowels of the castle then she had wandering the halls near her room on her own.

As Sarah began to wonder just how far down Jareth's study really was, Daencielle paused in front of a seemingly unremarkable, plain wooden door.

Was this it? The door was of average size, with a simple brass handle and door knocker. No window, no intricate designs…surely his own study would merit double doors at the least; Sarah had never know Jareth to understand the meaning of moderation.

"This is Jareth's study?" She asked, wondering if it lead to another corridor instead.

Daencielle gave a curt nod. "It is. If his Majesty isn't here, he'll be along shortly. If that is all you required, I've got work to attend to."

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_(A/N -Mixing it up a bit, this is in Kathy's POV)_

**K**athy opened the door of Lynn's old dually pickup, the unmistakable scent of horse hitting her nose and sighed. Gods-! But it was good to be home. As she stepped out of the truck, the plastic brace that the hospital had provided her with, dug into her side, protesting the speed and dexterity the movement required.

"Damn."

"Don't curse." Lynn chided, coming around to pull Kathy's single suitcase out of the back seat for her. "I know it's a pain, but you've got to wear it."

"Why? We both know I don't need the damn thi-"

"Don't curse! Kathy, I know that, and you know that, but the rest of the world can't know that. So you're stuck with it. Period. Now, come on, I can think of a few folks who're dying to see you!" Lynn headed off down the gravel drive in the direction of the barns. Kathy knew Lynn was thinking of more horses than people, she usually did.

Mentally cursing the inventor of plastic, she turned and started to follow her-slowly-down the road. With each step the brace pinched her, digging into her flesh and reminding her that she was required to play the invalid. Kathy growled; she hated being sick.

Well, no that wasn't entirely true. She'd never been sick for more than a day in her life so she'd never had the opportunity to know if she really disliked it or not. Unfortunately, when she was diagnosed with things such as strep throat, chicken pox and the flu, she was then required to be 'sick' for the usual duration of such illnesses. Which was invariably torture.

She couldn't begin to imagine how mortals dealt with the real thing, and was immensely grateful that she'd never had to find out.

Kathy set out down the road with renewed determination; the more she looked like she was getting better, the sooner she would be able to 'get better'. She was so engrossed in her tasked that she nearly walked head first into Mark, the resident groom, as he came out of the office.

"Kathy?" Mark grinned down at her from behind a mop of sandy brown curls. He was a good foot and a half taller than Kathy herself and had the build of your average tank. "Kathy!"

Before she could object, he'd swept her up into a bone crushing hug that robbed her of breath and caused the accursed brace to scream in protest. "You're back!" Mark shouted, spinning her in a circle. "And you're alive! Did you know that means I won the bet?"

"Ouhh" it was all she could manage with him crushing her ribs.

"Oh shit! Sorry Kat!" He set her down, remembering that she was, supposedly, recovering from severe spinal injuries. "You okay?"

"Yeah." she grinned, "I'm fine, I feel loads better just getting home. Hey, do you know if Sarah's around? She owes me for all those long visits she didn't give me."

"What'd you mean? I'm not sure I follow."

"Ha ha. Funny, Mark, so very, very funny. You know, you could just say she's not back yet." Kathy said, still grinning. She wasn't sure what story Lynn had given them when Sarah had disappeared, but hopefully he'd let something slip and she could go from there.

"Kathy, what are you talking about? Sarah didn't go anywhere. She's still at her Dads house for spring break. You sure you didn't crack your head when that colt threw you?"

The joy she had felt at coming home promptly evaporated. Sarah hated staying with her parents, and avoided it whenever possible. Kathy had known her to beg a sleeping bag and a corner from Lynn when she came home on the weekends to avoid dealing with Karen.

"Yeah…yeah, I don't what I'm talking about. Hey, I better get going. Lynn wanted to show me something. I'll see you around okay?"

"Yeah, later." he jogged off toward the hay barn on some unknown errand and Kathy waited until he turned the corner before she let her smile fade. Like the stablemen and handlers who'd taught her she colored the air with a string of curses that would make a soldier blush.

Sarah had never come back from her little chat with Jareth.

The weight of that knowledge hit her gut like a swallowed stone. Of course they didn't know where Sarah was, in all likelihood they'd never even realized she was gone. Nor would they.

She'd been able to lie to herself while she was still in the hospital; Sarah was a busy girl, she'd find time to visit eventually, or so Kathy had assured herself. But now, seeing everyone going on with their lives as though she'd never existed at all, cemented the knowledge that Sarah was really and truly gone.

"Come on Kat!" Lynn's voice sounded from down the hill, "Don't you want to come see your boy? He missed you!"

She forced a smile from her face, visiting Comanche would have to wait, he'd understand, just then she had bigger fish to fry. "Not just now!" she shouted, "I'm a little tired. I think I'll head home." without waiting for a response she limped off towards the house, cursing the brace that made every step a chore, and cursing Lynn for insisting she play along and wear it like they asked. Not like she needed the blasted thing.

When she caught up with him, a certain Goblin King was going to have a lot of explaining to do…

Kathy made her way-slowly-to the north barn. As she walked she kept a purposeful expression on her face; if anyone asked she was to retrieve a file from storage for Lynn. That should buy her enough time…

Though the second story of the barn where the offices had once been housed was wooden and fairly new, it had been built on an older stone structure that had stood there before Lynn had owned the land. It was that section of the barn that Kathy was concerned with now.

When the new barn was built a few years before, the north barn had fallen out of use. Now it served as an oversized storage unit for files, old saddles, boxes of anything and everything, and was rarely used. This suited Kathy perfectly. Even on the short walk over here, she'd begun to loose her nerve and she knew that if anyone interrupted her she'd never be able to go through with her plan.

_Not that I have much of an actual plan…_ she thought sourly. She had long ago decided that detailed plans were of no use whatsoever; they only served to complicate things when something went wrong, so she didn't usually make one, but just then she wondered if it might be nice to have a virtual road map of her intentions, just to give her a _little_ extra confidence.

The doors to the barn, both front and back, were locked as they usually were, and Kathy swore when she remembered that her key ring was sitting back at the house. No matter.

The window she picked was large enough for her own tiny frame to squeeze through, but only just, and the sill was nearly eight feet off the ground. Who would bother to lock such a window? Someone who had no idea of what an excellent climber their niece was, luckily for Kathy. A bit of searching produced a metal feed bin, empty now, and more than tall enough to give her a boost. She inverted it beneath the window, careful not to crush the plants and give away what she'd done, before climbing on top.

Standing on the bin, her feet crushing down on the flexible lid, Kathy was more than tall enough to tug open glass. It slid away noiselessly, only a cloud of dust to mark the movement, and she slid inside, her landing muffled by the plush throw rug left there by Kathy herself for just that purpose.

Kathy winced as the cursed brace dug into her side and hip, reminding her of her supposed 'injury'. Growling, she ripped open the velcro an stuffed the contraption behind a filing cabinet with a silent curse to whomever had come up with such an infernal idea.Why Lynn had insisted on having her wear the thing was entirely beyond her.

She slid the window closed, locking it this time to be sure no one else tried the same approach and interrupted her when they oughtn't, and stalked off towards the back stairs. Her footfalls seemed unnaturally loud in the gloom, raising plumes of dust from the plush rug. Kathy snorted; _a nice rug in a horse barn-what nonsense!_

She made her way through the halls, her hands trailing along the intricate masonry, leaving finger trails in the dust that had settled on the minute carvings. It was those carvings that brought her to this particular building. Raised long ago when such things were commonplace, caches-both large and small-had been built into the stone work, their doors guarded by ancient mechanisms that miraculously continued to work, though Kathy was sure they hadn't been oiled in at least a decade. From the base of the back stair, it took her only a few moments to reach her destination; a small storage room on the basement level, home to a multitude of filing cabinets, boxes, and other such junk that accumulated in all business storage spaces over the course of time.

Kathy studied the carvings on the far wall, looking for the small sunburst that opened the compartment she needed and smiled when her fingers caught on it. It slid back noiselessly, activating the mechanism and taking nearly a square foot of the wall with it.

"When you said you were on your way home, you neglected to mention that the house in question was not the one which we normally occupy." Lynn's voice behind her, startled her nearly out of her skin. Kathy whirled around to face the woman who'd been much as a mother to her for the past decade.

Lynn sat, sprawled really, on a stack of boxes, still in the cutoff shorts she'd worn that morning, her usually animated face serene. Kathy hadn't even heard her enter. That was the problem with supernatural relatives, they might understand your problem, but they always complicated things.

_Shit._

"Lynn! I-I wasn't…." she stumbled over the words in her mind, unable to make her thoughts make sense. Explanations had never been Kathy's forte and she knew she'd never be able to smooth talk her way out of this. She'd have to give Lynn something to harp on-something other than her true intentions-to sate her. "I didn't-"

"Think?" Lynn supplied, a wry grin on her face. "No. You didn't. But, no matter, you're in fine family tradition on that one, my girl, never you worry." She picked up a spare pony bit off one of the hooks on the wall, chipping away at the flecks of chewed grass left there by a previous recipiant. She stayed silent, Kathy knew that she was waiting for her to make the first move.

Lynn was very much like Jason in that; they never tried to force events with their power, they waited for them to develop on their own and reacted from there; she'd always found the pacifism to sweet for her tastes.

Well, if that was how she wanted it, fine; two could play at this game.

"Well, my dear? I expect you to at least _try_ to throw me off the scent. Though I think we both know perfectly well that it won't work. Really, I'm hurt that you wouldn't come to me first…." Lynn smiled dryly, "I've always been understanding in the past, have I not?"

What little plan she had was forgotten, as Kathy felt anger, hot and demanding, ignite in her stomach. She knew. She had to have known all along, and she'd done nothing to stop it.

"I can smell their stink all over this!" Kathy hissed, the words dripping venom. "How could you Lynnie? You had to have known-! How could you let them take her?!"

"Are you so certain they took her by show of force?" Lynn slid down from her perch in one liquid movement. "Though that is their usual style as you well know."

"Oh, yes, I would know wouldn't I?" she spat, "But I know Sarah. She'd never go with him willingly. She'd fall on her own knife before she'd go to that bastard for help, and _you_ know it."

"Do I now…"

"Lynnie, I should have been able to heal myself." Kathy said bluntly, "I've been hurt worse, you know that just as well as I do. I felt him, Lynnie, I felt him on the wind just before it happened."

Lynn sighed. She'd hoped to reason her out of this ridiculous plan, but-as per usual-Kathy would always be her own mule-headed, stubborn self. That was not to say that Lynn trusted Jareth as far as she could throw him, but she knew his weakness for the girl; he'd never harm her as Kathy implied.

"Oh, Kathy…"

"No! Don't Kathy me! I know what I felt! I'm not going to leave her with a monster who would do that to his own family! I'm going back, end of story. I'll go find Sarah, I'll bring her home, and be back before anyone knows what's happened, piece of pie."

"Piece of cake." Lynn corrected.

"Oh, whatever."

Lynn chuckled. _Foolish child indeed if she thinks Jareth won't see this coming…_ she mused. "Well, you certainly get straight to the point-"

"And you skirt it!" Kathy snapped, "If you think I'm going to just sit back and let this happen-that I'd let him force her to take my place-then you really are as crazy as people say" Kathy bit her tongue even as the words poured out.

"And exactly what do they say?"

_ Fine. You want it that way-? Fine!_ "They call you the crazy old woman of Ivy-weed manor!"

Lynn was silent for a few moments, turning the bit over and over in her hands, her nimble fingers removing the dirt and grime caked into the crevices. She laughed again,

"And every bit of it's true, deary. I do live in this misbegotten, overgrown hovel, I am undeniably old, and opinions far more informed than yours have long since pronounced me quite mad. But that is quite another matter. No, Kathy, my dear. I don't expect you to sit back and let this happen. I know _you_ to well for that. You're going to do whatever it is you're planning to do, regardless of what's said here…But do you know what the ironic part is? You are exactly like she was at your age."

"I am _nothing_ like her." Kathy hissed, cold rage burning in her eyes,

Lynn only laughed, "That's right, deary, you just keep telling yourself that."

"Lynn I have to…" It should have been simplicity itself; a lie, just a little one, just enough to lay her suspicions to rest so that she'd leave her alone. But the very idea chaffed against her mind like rough sand on a burn. It was that sort of thinking, of rationalizing the little false hoods that she had found so foul about _them_. She had to believe she was better than that. " She wouldn't have gone to him, she'd have found some other way, Lynnie. This wasn't an accident!"

"Kathy, I'm not going to tell you to play it safe, because I know I'd be wasting my breath. Whether or not to do this thing in your head...well, it's your choice. I can't make it for you, so don't ask me to justify doing this. Either you will or you won't. But I'll tell you this. It isn't about anger or revenge or anything else, it's simple luv, when it comes down to it, it's about _you_ being able to live with what you've done at the end of the day, because that is the only thing that matters."

Before Kathy could respond, she slipped out the door, closing it firmly behind her.

_Well, that went about as well as a snowball fight in hell…_

She sighed. She'd have time to patch things over with Lynn later. At the moment, her single concern was finding Sarah before she agreed to anything reckless. Kathy snorted, _Oh yeah, as though Sarah Williams would _ever_ do anything reckless…_

Shaking her head, Kathy turned her attention back to the task at hand.

The older, stone wrought buildings, were full of such secret caches, two even boasted a hidden passage way to the edge of the grounds, or so Lynn had claimed. Despite many summer afternoons spent looking, Kathy had never been able to find the mechanism that opened those particular doors.

This cache was around the size of a bolt of cloth, and twice as deep. Lynn had shown her the mechanism that opened it years ago, giving her the compartment for her own personal use as a birthday gift.

With shaking hands, Kathy reached into the compartment, her fingers brushing over bits of this and that that her younger self had put there years ago. It wasn't those particular mementos of her past that she was after. Finally, her fingers closed around a small silk wrapped sphere no bigger than her own palm. Even through the fabric, she could feel the electric pulse of what was hidden beneath as she drew it slowly from the depths of the cache.

Kathy stared at the wad of material in her hands. It was a small thing really, the sort of thing that would hardly merit as second glance, but it sent shivers down her spine nonetheless as she peeled back the grey silk that hid it.

It was the first time she'd unwrapped the thing in over a decade, and the thick layer of dust that coated the fabric could attest that no one else had done so either. Slowly, Kathy peeled back the layers of cloth, revealing the perfect orb that she'd been looking for.

Even after so many years, the feeling of smooth crystal against her palm made her shudder. But this particular crystal was more than an ordinary bobble, it was a gateway of sorts. For someone who knew how to use it the crystal served as a link to the magick that permeated the Underground.

Taking a deep breath, Kathy stretched out her senses, opening herself to that magickal current.

It washed over her in a flood, threatening to consume her with that all encompassing, pervasive power. It was thick enough that Kathy was sure she could drown in it if she wasn't careful to keep her head. The magick lapped at her consciousness like waves on a rocky shoreline, testing for irregularities, weakness; a small crack, just enough to slip through and overpower her.

It wasn't supposed to be this way, it had never been like this before. Then again, she had never tried any magick of quite this magnitude before, either. Warming her toes on cold winter mornings and putting the kettle on without getting out of bed were hardly comparable to throwing herself headlong across the gap between the worlds.

Will a physical effort of will, Kathy opened her mind-carefully!-to the currents of magick that flowed through and from the perfect sphere. Letting the tingling, electric light of that power wash over her, she dipped into the endless flow, searching for the marks she needed to form the spell, drawing them into herself. All the marks she knew for breaking and parting, opening, crossing, unbarring and unlocking. They came into her mind in a flood, stronger than she'd ever felt before, brighter than the sun, so quickly that she was barely able to weave them together into the spell she'd chosen. It was one of great power, one that she'd never dared to try before now.

Finally the spell was ready, pent up inside her mind by her strength of will alone. What would have taken Jareth seconds, had taken her what seemed like a spattering of lifetimes, and Kathy knew the effect would never match the glamour with which her older-admittedly more practiced relatives-carried out the same task.

_Not that it matters, not as though anyone's going to be there to meet me… _

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Sarah forced herself to knock softly at the door. If said knock wouldn't have served to drown out a pin dropping, well, that was hardly her fault. Actively seeking out the king of the Goblins was _almost _as foolish as inviting disaster incarnate to spend the weekend at one's home. Alone. With matches and gasoline and a sign that read 'play with me!'. There was no answer to her knock, and Jareth himself did not appear, so trying to find her way back to her own room seemed the best plan. Before she could turn, however, the door swung open to rest slightly ajar before her in an obvious invitation…

How often had she wondered about what went on inside Jareths' mind over the years? There was little she wouldn't have given for the chance to pick his brain without his knowing it, and now that opportunity was all but slapping her in the face. It was, after all, his own private study; surely there had to be something left there that would give her some clue as to what his intentions were.

Glancing over her shoulder to be sure the coast was still clear, Sarah pulled the door open, just wide enough for her slender frame to slip through, and shut the door softly behind her. She paused long enough to check the handle and assure herself that she hadn't been locked in before turning to survey her surroundings.

The room was lined on three sides with large wooden book shelves and glass fronted cases displayed strange artifacts, a statue here, a crystal, a colorful goblet; nothing that told her much about anything. The other wall was taken up with a large, cluttered desk. Sarah figured that was as good a place as any to start. Most of it was paperwork, an order for thus and so, a few that she assumed were bills, notices of protest, requests and such. Things about his kingdom, but nothing that told her about Jareth as a person.

Her eyes settled on a small, wire bound book. _A sketch book?_

As she flipped open the cover, Sarah realized it was just that. She also noted, studying a detailed drawing of the labyrinth, that he was extremely talented.

Sarah surpressed a giggle, she'd never have thought he had the patience. She flipped through the pages, the goblin city, Augusta riding, the stables, a stack of books, little snapshots of his life as though he hadn't had time to devote to a more complete image.

She turned the page again and froze, staring at the image. It was…her. A determined grin on her face, as she bent forward at the hips, waging her finger at Cheval who was in the midst of stamping and snorting at her in his stall. The pose was so lifelike, he must have been watching her that first day. She flipped through a few more pages; Justine, sleeping in the hay loft, far younger than she was now, a picture of Jareth himself, a hunt scene…Sarah again, this time asleep, in her bed back at her fathers house.

She sighed, closing the sketch book. Sarah wanted to feel angry, he'd obviously been spying on her, but all she could manage was guilty. After all, she could hardly be angry at him seeing as how she'd never have know if she hadn't been snooping in this things…

The rest of his desk was covered in stacks of paperwork, some stamped with the griffon seal that she'd seen repeated in the library. Something moved, ever so slightly, in the corner of her vision and Sarah turned to see Jareth, lounging on a leather couch behind her. His legs were sprawled out across the carpet, on hand on his chest the other propped behind his head. He was apparently sleeping, but Sarah couldn't be sure.

She waved her hand at him, walking closer, but it elicited no response, and she decided that he really was napping.

She took a moment to study his features as she never would have when he was awake, her eyes tracing the curve of his jaw, the line of his brow and that wild platinum hair that actually suited him.

Sarah had already seen enough of the Underground to know that the most dangerous things sometimes came in the most beautiful packages. _There, alright, I thought it!_ She gave a mental sigh. There was really no denying it; Jareth was without a doubt the most gorgeous male she'd ever met, though she'd sprout wings and fly before she'd admit as much to him.

He was dressed less formally then he'd been when she'd seen him last, in a simple white poets shirt that hung open revealing lines of muscle beneath his alabaster skin and dark grey breeches that left very little to the imagination, and of course, Jareth would never be complete without his customary riding boots and gloves.

She also noted the addition of a sword, anchored to his left hip. This struck her as odd. He'd appeared before her in semi-armored outfits before, but somehow Sarah couldn't picture Jareth actually wielding a sword as a necessary weapon. She'd always imagined him using his magick instead.

She stepped closer, peering at the design on the ball of the hilt. She was so engrossed in it, that she failed to notice his eyes were now open, and studying her intently.

"My sword." he said, causing her to jump.

"Oh, I-uh…"

"It's quite alright, you're welcome to look."

Sarah glanced up at him just as his lips began to twist into a smirk.

"I already know the joke you're going to make, so don't bother saying it." She said dryly, her treacherous mind supply a wealth of gutter-humor for just that situation.

"Wicked creature. I've no idea what you're talking about." He insisted, a feline grin on his face.

"Oh-for God's sake-Do you ever stop?"

"Well, I'm told I have wonderful stamina-"

Too old to stick out her tongue at him, Sarah settled for rolling her eyes.

"Sarah, my dear, Justine mentioned that you seemed…preoccupied these past few days. Tell me, love, what troubles you?"

Sarah felt a little taken aback at that. Did he really expect her to just pour out her woes like he'd always been her bestest buddy?

"You are worried about your friend, Kathy, are you not?"

_Damn. _

_Kick me while I'm down why don't you?_

Sarah sighed, "Well, yeah, if you must know. She was in really bad shape when I left, in case you hadn't guessed."

He gave her a quizzical look, "As I said, it was taken care of."

"I still worry, Jareth. I can't help it. She's my best friend."

Sarah couldn't begin to guess why she felt compelled to tell him this, but she had to admit, being able to talk-even if it was to the subject of many of her nightmares-was a relief.

"Is that why you were so willing to take her place?"

"She's the first person, the only person, who's ever really understood me. With Kathy, what you see is what you get. She's real and she doesn't play games like most girls do. She can be strange, but she's kind and thoughtful. She's the kind of person who would give you the shirt off her back if you asked for it."

He turned the brandy glass slowly in his hands, "You speak as though you feel somewhat responsible for what took place, yet from what I understood, the blame was her own."

Sarah sighed, "That's not it. Yeah, I guess technically I didn't force her to get on the horse, but I sure didn't try to stop her either. I knew he was trouble, Jareth, even Lynn said so and she adores difficult horses-it's practically a sport for her! I still went along with it…God-! It was like in those sappy dramatic movies, I could see it coming but it was like I was running in slow motion, she was speeding up and I was slowing down. I couldn't move, I couldn't yell, I couldn't get there fast enough…" Sarah could hear her voice cracking, but the words continued to pour from her lips, "…I tried to get to her!- there was just no time. She-she hit the concrete-it made the most horrible cracking noise…"

With a jolt of surprise, Jareth realized that she had described his reaction to watching her and Cheval nearly word for word. Seeing her vulnerable like that, brought out something deeply protective in him. Some long sleeping creature that a hundred millennia of Fae generations still couldn't breed out of the male persona raised its head and growled _mine!_

Silently, Jareth contemplated the merits of killing the troublesome beast that had caused all this, but judging from her reaction to Cheval, he doubted it would comfort her.

On some deep, rational, level Sarah's brain noted calmly that if this went on she would go into shock all over again. But she couldn't force herself to stop. On a very deep level, she also noted that she was leaning on Jareths' shoulder, his arm around her, but then again, who knows you better than your worst enemy?

However she refused to accept that burrying her face in his shirt felt even half as good as it did, and calmly told herself it was the shock of reliving past traumas.

"When I got to the hospital..they said…She-she was in the ICU. They were giving Lynn some bullshit line about we've done everything we can-it was like a death sentence…I didn't even have a plan. I saw the book sitting on my table at home and I thought about what you said about re-ordering time. I called you more out of instinct than planning."

Jareth smiled, pleased that in her need he had been the one she turned to. That she had done so out if instinct didn't bother him at all. "Well, I'm certainly glad that you did, my dear."

Sarah snorted, wiping at her eyes as she moved away to a safe distance. "Yeah, I'll just bet you are."

"Sarah, love, you wound me. I've truly enjoyed your company over the past week, I'm looking forward to the rest of our time together." Try as she might Sarah couldn't find anything that more hinted vaguely at the inappropriate in his words. That alone put her on edge. Jareth was the worlds biggest flirt, somehow he always managed to twist her words into some ridiculous double entendre.

"Why does that not comfort me?" she muttered, smiling despite herself.

"My dear Sarah, are you suggesting that I make you uncomfortable?" he asked innocently, the glint in his eyes shouting that he knew the answer perfectly well.

"Why Jareth, what a thought!" Sarah exclaimed, sarcasm dripping from her words, "It's not as though you've ever done anything that might make me uncomfortable!"

Was she imagining things, or was she actually flirting with the Goblin King?

Jareth leaned closer to her, and she slid farther back on the couch, feeling the arm pressing into the small of her back and effectively cutting off her retreat. "Now Sarah, how exactly have I made you…uncomfortable…" Sarah couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes, she could feel the heat of his body even through their clothes, making her own shiver agreeably.

He moved closer still, "My dear, if there is anything I can do to make your stay more _enjoyable_…I would be more than happy to be of service."

Sarah mentally cursed her own pale skin, knowing she was blushing from head to toe. Normally she was calm and collected, but Jareth could always bring out the worst sort of flustered, blushing school girl in her.

She forced herself to look up at him, and mismatched eyes studied her own. _Come on Williams, say something!_

"You could stop doing that and tell me what you wanted to talk to me about." she forced the words out of her mouth with supreme effort of will. _Yes! Good! I knew there was a reason I took drama junior year!_ Just like that, the embers that smoldered in his eyes were gone, replaced with the usual cool smirk.

"As you like." he rose in one fluid movement, offering his hand to help her off the couch. Sarah ignored the proffered hand and jumped up on her own, not trusting herself to touch him.

_Don't go there Williams…._

"You wanted to talk to me about something?" she said. The leather of her own shoes had become intensely fascinating.

"Ah yes. I had almost forgotten." he seated himself behind the desk, pulling one of the papers in front of him. "As you may know, the Great Fair is due to begin tomorrow. No doubt you have plans to attend with Justine and Augusta in the morning,"

Sarah ground her teeth. This was it, the part where he'd come up with some daunting task for her to stop her from going.

"That should be fine. Go…_enjoy_…yourself in the morning. But you will return by mid afternoon to the castle. Tomorrow evening there shall be a ball, to celebrate the opening of the Fair, as is tradition. You, my dear, will attend with me, as my escort. I feel no need to inform you that throughout the night, you will treat me and my guests with respect, you will be every bit the beautifully behaved, charming young woman that I'm sure you can be."

Sarah's thoughts flew to memories of the last ball she'd attended with the Goblin King, even if it had been a dream, she remembered it all too vividly. Somehow she had the feeling that attending a real ball with him, as his designated dating service no less, would be even more trying, but she couldn't see a feasible way out of it…

"I would…but…"

_Come on, Sarah, you can do this! Just think, there's got to be a hundred reasons you can't go._

"…But I don't have anything to wear."

It was really pathetic as reasons went, but it was the first thing that had come to mind. Jareth smiled, all his concentration seemingly focused on the paperwork in front of him.

"No need to worry about that, love, Augusta will find you something suitable to wear." he assured her, still without so much as glancing in her direction.

"I thought the fair wasn't about status?"

Jareth smirked at her from over his paper work, "The fair is. The ball, however, is not--damn!" He swore and the quill dribbled ink over the seal he'd been placing, leaving thick, spreading blotches.

"As I said, Augusta will make the arrangements for you. That will be all, Sarah." he dismissed her with a flippant wave of his hand.

_What do I look like-? An escort service?!_ _Just call me up and I'm ready to go?_ She almost said it aloud, but that image of Kathy swam in her vision again, reminding her to keep her mouth calm and well mannered, no matter how much she'd like to say otherwise.

"That's it?" _Suitable. _Demanding_, but suitable._

"Uh, yes. Yes, that will be all. Now, although it would be simple to assume otherwise, there is actually a considerable amount of paperwork and tedious bureaucracy that comes with the running this kingdom, and I actually _do_ need to get back to it."

Sarah knew a dismissal when she heard one, and she choked back her angry retort in favor of finding the door.

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"**O**h. My. God."

It was really the only thing Sarah could say as she studied herself in the full length mirror in Augusta's rooms. Her face warred between absolute amazement and utter horror, which would probably have looked comical if it had been someone else wearing the vile thing that Jareth had the nerve to call a ball gown.

That was not to Say that it was ugly, per say. And if she was pressed, Sarah would have to admit that the color was actually quite beautiful. The gown itself was a dusty blue color where it began-off the shoulder, naturally-and slowly deepened to a dark midnight hue at the hem. It had been fitted with a corset that was purposefully open in the back, even when tied, revealing a good portion of her back, while…ahem…accenting certain other assets nearly to the point of indecency. The skirt itself was actually quite nice, Sarah had always liked clothing with a little weight to it, but the slit in the side that extended to upper mid thigh more than she was willing to put up with.

Sarah Williams was the sort of person who, for the most part, was comfortable in her own skin and she knew exactly how much of that skin she would be comfortable showing. This gown crossed so many lines she hardly knew where to begin.

She turned to Augusta, who'd been sitting on a lounge chair in the corner watching Sarah's reaction with interest, a look of helpless shock on her face. Augusta gave her a sort of grimacing smile.

"You don't like it." She said blandly. She'd lived with Jareth long enough to recognize the signs of an impending explosion when she saw them.

"Like it?! It's ridiculous! I might as well go naked!! If he thinks I'm wearing this then he's lost his marbles-! I look like a medieval hooker!" she fumed. "Good God-! I cannot believe I actually agreed to this!"

"So…you'd prefer something else." Augusta kept her voice neutral. Though she would have liked to be able to defend her brother, if for no other reason than the fact that he was her brother, she had to agree with Sarah. He'd known exactly what he was doing when he selected the dress.

"YES! Yes, I think you could definitely say I'd prefer something different!!"

"Very well, dear. I'll speak with him." From the look in the girls' eyes Augusta had the feeling that if she saw Jareth just then, then she'd be called on to defend him from being throttled. "I'll just take it with me. You wait here, and I'll have the kitchen send up something for you to snack on."

"But I've got chores-"

"Let me worry about this, I think you need some rest, and if you thought my brother was hard to argue with, well, deary you've never had to take me on." She patted Sarah's shoulder reassuringly, then folded the offending gown over her arm before turning to leave.

"You stay here for now, and do try and get some sleep, dear." Augusta said over her shoulder, "It'll be an early start tomorrow to get ready to leave for the fair, and you'll get little enough rest once the day's begun."

She slipped out the door, shutting it behind her and leaving Sarah alone with her thoughts. As she turned to leave, Augusta nearly collided with a very surprised looking Hoggle.

"Oh, erm…Yer Ladyship! I was just lookin' for ya. Jareth sent me to tell ya that he wanted to speak with ya."

Augusta nodded, "Yes, I'm sure he does. Hoggle, I'd like you to talk with Sarah a bit, try and reassure her that this is only temporary. I'm afraid she's feeling a bit overwhelmed by all this."

Hoggle nodded quickly. Though he wasn't as frightened of Augusta as he was of Jareth, she was still no one to be trifled with, "A' course, yer Ladyship. I'll just head over there now-"

Augusta cut him off, "She's inside. Oh, and Hoggle, I should warn you, she'd in a vile mood."

Hoggle shook his head, he'd have been more surprised if she wasn't. "Thanks, Yer Ladyship."

She didn't wait to see him open the door. She had bigger things to worry about, and a certain brother of hers was going to have a great deal of explaining to do if she had anything to say about it.

Hoggle slid into the room Sarah didn't seem to have noticed him, but he could tell she was close to the edge of tears. He wondered just what had happened to upset her so. No doubt that rat, Jareth had said something…

"S-Sarah. I didn't know you was in here!"

"Hoggle!" Before he knew what was happening, Sarah wrapped him in a fierce hug. "Oh, Hoggle! It's good to see a familiar face! I was beginning to think something had happened."

Aside from Jareth, and Hoggle's visit her second day at the castle, Sarah had hardly had time to breathe, and she was feeling a bit guilty for not finding the time to visit with her old friends from the Labyrinth.

"I'm sorry I ain't been ta see ya more, Sarah. We've all been so busy, what with the Fair comin' up an all."

"That's alright Hoggle, I can see everyone's excited about it." She settled back into the chair.

"Well a' course we is. Biggest party all year!" he said happily.

Sarah smiled. "So I've hear. Hoggle, I wanted to ask you…about this ball, what's it about really? Jareth only mentioned that there would be a lot of Fae nobles there." if she was to be present whether she willed it or not, Sarah thought it would be best to have some idea of what she was getting into.

Hoggle snorted, "Ya might say that. Lots of Fae'll be there. Wouldn't go talkin' to too many of 'em without 'Is Majesty with ya."

"Is it that dangerous?"

"Well, it ain't no picnic in the park if that's what yer sayin'. Don't you worry, Sarah. Jareth'll keep ya safe. You can be sure a' that."

"Oh…"

Hoggle studied his shoes with vast interest, not daring to look up at her. He had guessed, from passing comments of hers over the years, that Sarah was secretly a bit sweet on the Goblin King, though she had never said as much outright to him. He had a feeling she didn't realize it herself, at least not consciously. Past that, he hadn't thought much about her infatuation; most women tended to have much the same reaction on meeting Jareth-though Hoggle couldn't begin to guess why.

But when he had mentioned his suspicions to Justine, she'd been so gleeful that it was impossible not to be caught up in her little plot.

Hoggle shuddered, _Gods 'elp us all if 'Is Majesty ever finds out that we'd planned it all…_

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**J**areth all but slammed the glass down on the mantle, recalling at the last moment the previous broken glassware Augusta complained of and checking the force behind the movement. Amber liquid sloshed, sliding down the side and off the mantle to hit the red embers, momentarily filling the room with the sickly sweet smell of burning brandy.

He repressed a growl, his whole body was one line of barely restrained tension. "Tell me once more, what exactly did she say when you presented her with the gown."

Augusta sighed, her voice gentle, "We've been over this before-"

"-And we'll damn well go over it again." Jareth snapped.

Her smile faded, as once gentle eyes turned cool, "She said, and I quote, 'If he thinks I'm wearing that then he's lost his marbles I look like a…medieval hooker'. Do you require a translation of her pert mortal slang, brother dear?"

He could always tell when his sister was angry by her words. Not that she would deign to actually _shout_ at him; it was a rare occasion indeed that could cause Augusta to raise her voice. But when she was troubled, or angry, her usually familial words turned icy, putting even the most haughty Fae courtiers to shame. It was the sort of voice that could say the most God-awful things in the same tone one would use to remark that it was raining.

"Incredible! Was there some fatal flaw with the dress I chose that I've failed to notice, Augusta? I completely fail to see where her complaint lies."

Augusta gave a very unladylike snort. "Jareth. You are not, and have never been, that blind. Please, don't pretend to be so, it doesn't suit you. You knew perfectly well when you chose it that she'd find it too…ahem,…shall we say revealing."

"Augusta…"

"Oh, very well! Perhaps by our standards it wouldn't be thought so, but you can hardly say that Sarah would agree!"

"I tell you now sister, the girl is insufferable. She should feel grateful that I provided a dress at all. I do not now how much more of her impetuousness I can stand without doing something that I'll regret!" Jareth fumed. He paced the ornate rug of Augusta's chambers in great angry strides. "I have been more than generous up until now, but my patience is wearing thin." reaching one end of the chamber he turned neatly on his heal and began the cycle over again.

Augusta laughed, watching him pace her chamber like a caged lion. "I hardly think that she sees it that way. Nor could I say I blame her. You shouldn't have gotten involved in this Jareth. We've enough to worry about as it stands without throwing Sarah Williams into the mix."

Jareth sighed, stalking over to the mantle, he poured himself a glass from the brandy set Augusta kept there. "Sister dear, I fail to see how this little side experiment of mine will upset the larger plan."

"With all do respect, _your Majesty_, horseshit!"

The use of the title was more mocking than respectful, but he decided to let it slide. "Augusta, I will play their game and act a fool for their benefit, if Sarah's presence adds to the illusion, what harm is there? Once the treaty has been agreed to then it will be of no consequence."

So he hoped. What Sarah, and the rest of the Underground, had never realized, was how poor the state of the Goblin City's defenses really was. In truth the Labyrinth was nigh on solely responsible for dissuading intruders. The treaty Augusta had proposed would change all that.

For thousands of years, the Underground had been in a constant state of unrest. Kingdom against Kingdom, neighbor turned on neighbor over senseless feuds and ancient arguments whose beginnings no one could even recall. Augusta's proposal was simple. A lasting peace. Should one King lead an attack on another nation, the other nobles would be charged to come to the victims defense. An almost impossible deterrent…in theory.

But before it could be decided that one ruler had staged an attack or invasion of any other kingdom, it would first have to be decided on exactly who owned what land between them. It was something he, and Augusta, had long tried for and something that the other princes had long been loathe to speak of. Jareth could name at least three instances when ancient blood feuds were, literally, over a single measure and a half of worthless swamp land, or more if he took the time to think it over. But of course, no one was willing to compromise on who's thrice great-grandfather had owned what miserable little sheep pasture that was unjustly stolen by someone else's five times grand-uncle. And, of course, no one seemed to have any records of how such things were started. But Jareth was confident it could-and it damn well _would_-be agreed on before the negotiations were ended at the Fair. It was a tiresome, boring, and all together trying chore but it needed doing, if only so that he wouldn't have to revisit it at the next Fair three years hence.

"Jareth? Have you heard anything I've said?" Augusta's voice brought him up from the depths of his thoughts. "This needs to end. You've had your fun, now it is time you sent her back. She causes nothing but trouble here, Jareth. Surely even you must see it-"

He shook his head, and Augusta sighed. _Really, they deserve each other_, she thought wryly, _stubborn as a team of mules the pair of them!_

"I fail to see-"

"Yes." Augusta snapped, "You do. And you do so quite often. She is a distraction that you cannot afford, and a dangerous one at that. Jareth, have you considered what their reaction would be if the others discover how much sway she holds over you? You place not only her, but her entire family in danger."

Jareth forced out a laugh, "I think you've given her a little too much credit, Augusta, dear."

Augusta quirked an eyebrow at him, "Really?" she poured a glass of brandy for herself, sipping it slowly, "So, you mean to say that you have other reasons as to why you put yourself out for her? You've been complaining of how much effort all this is, quite loudly in fact, on a regular basis. I myself am tired of it Jareth.

"Oh really?"

"Of course.

"You mean to tell me that you didn't relish the chance to drag her here. Because if you're trying to convince me that you didn't have half a dozen ladies who'd fall over themselves for the chance to go with you, then you've had more of that brandy than I thought. This business with the ball is no more about being unable to find a suitable escort than the Bog is a bed of roses. You're doing it to humiliate her. Oh, do so if you must, but have the balls to be honest about it. You're not doing it because you don't have a choice, you're doing it because you can."

Jareth gaped at her, grasping for words, his mind flailing desperately as he tried to formulate a biting comment and failed utterly. He felt his face heat and his temper flair, fueled by his still bleeding pride.

"She wanted to save Kathy, and I saved her." He snapped, "I hardly feel that a mere month of her time was too much to ask in return, nor do I feel that having her accompany me to the ball is such an extraordinary request. She was required to work by the terms of her contract, so I put her where she would be surrounded by things she understood. She wanted the horse, and I gave him to her. Everything she thought she needed, everything she asked of me, I have given her!"

Horribly, a little burst of laughter escaped her. "Truly told, Jareth, is that what you think?"

"Of course that's what I think, Augusta! Why do you think I've done all of this? For my amusement? It was for her! I did it all for her!"

"Ah, Gods! Do you hear yourself?" She said, chortling, "You want her to feel grateful, don't you?! Oh, this is too rich! Jareth, dear, you seem to be under the illusion that you've done that child a favor, well, allow me to enlighten you. You-and no other-started this little game. Every problem you've solved for her, you have created-"

"I gave her everything!" he roared, loosing his temper at last.

Augusta cackled with glee, "Jareth, you've never _given_ her anything!" she was howling with laughter by that time, "You can't _earn_ a gift, Jareth, it must be given. You stole her brother, you turned her world upside down, and you expect her to be grateful for it?"

Though he would never tell her as much, Augusta was probably the only living person who could speak that way to Jareth without fear of his anger. He supposed it had something to do with her being family that he allowed her to get away with such things, though he couldn't begin to guess why he did; she always took ruthless advantage of the situation.

"Jareth, just because you can force your will on her, doesn't mean you should, it doesn't make it right." She sighed, emptying her glass. "In the mortal world they have an expression, 'you catch more flies with honey than vinegar', you would do well to remember it."

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**S**he was not merely traveling, she was stretching. As though some trivial part of her was still rooted to the physical reality she had left behind, while a thinning strand of her consciousness-herself, really-was being pulled, faster than she could have thought possible over thousands of miles of noise and light; whole galaxies, a life time of travel surpassed in an instant.

She felt herself becoming increasingly spread out over infinitesimal amount of space until Kathy imagined herself to be little more than a single strand of consciousness, beads of her own thoughts touching nothing more than the like motes on either side.

It was beautiful and breathtaking and utterly terrifying all at once, and the strand that was Kathy did her best to remind herself that this was a completely normal side effect. At least, she was almost sure that it was completely normal. She had been so young the first time she crossed between the worlds she could barely remember the experience.

Aunt Lynn's words echoed, painfully loud in her mind, 'Your uncle shielded you from what was happening when you crossed the first time. You'll have no such luck now, as I'm unable to do so for myself alone, much less another being. Everything you were protected from on that inaugural trip will be magnified a thousand times over…'

_Oh Gods, please, let this be normal…_

What had been fascinating and beautiful only moments ago, was quickly become increasingly painful.

She was a rubber band in the hands of God who, like a gleeful child, was spreading his mighty arms as wide as they would go. Then that rubber band snapped…

**W**hen she came to, she was lying on her side, something prickly poking into her skin, and half her vision was filled with what at first appeared to be an abstract painting of smeary green lines. Grass.

Her head was pounding like a symphony of kettle drums and she would have sold her soul without hesitation for a bottle of mouth wash. In so much as small mercies went, she, surprisingly, wasn't nauseous.

She made the mistake of sitting up.

That did make her nauseous. She bent over in time to avoid empting the previous nights' dinner onto her lap, spitting over and over again into the grass, and groaned. "Ouuugghhh."

She did her best to keep still as her vision spun and actually considered the merits of taking up permanent residence in the Underground, not so much because she was home sick, but because she never wanted to feel anything like that again. She looked up and instantly reversed her decision.

It wasn't so much that anything looked expressly dangerous, or wrong-in fact it all looked right in a romantic, pre-Raphaelite sort of way. Too right in fact, and that was what made it so frighteningly wrong. Everything-from the close standing groves of trees to the perfect green of the grassy knolls, to the jewel like brilliance of insect wings as they flitted through the shafts of late afternoon light between the two-was wrong in the most basic of ways. Kathy tried to tell herself that she was simply used to looking at the mortal world and the Underground wasn't so much wrong as it was different, and failed utterly. This place scared her like nothing else ever could, right down to her Fae bred bones.

She drew a deep shuddering breath to steady her nerves and surveyed the land she'd landed on. It was not in the Goblin Kingdom. That at least, she was certain of. She'd come through a bit too far north, probably close to the edge of the Northern Wood, near Anthria, a good day's walk from the borders of her Uncles' lands.

Perfect.

Kathy levered herself to her feet and dusted off her breeches. If she'd timed it right, she should be able to arrive around the time the Fair was due to begin. She'd blend in with the crowds on their way to the markets and slip into the castle grounds while the city was nigh on empty. If that went according to plans it would be simplicity itself to find Sarah and slip away again before anyone was the wiser. All in all, she thought it was a perfectly wonderful plan.

"Well, c'mon feet. It's a long walk, and the sooner we've started the sooner we can go home and forget this mess…."

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**J**areth paced the confines of Augusta's reception room as an animal might pace the confines of its cage. Though he had long since learned to block it out, even now he could hear the commotion down stairs, and feel the rush of excitement that flowed and eddied through the very walls of the castle like an electric current. In less than an hour it would be dawn. The bells would chime the hour, summoning servants and nobles alike to their duties all over the underground. Or, at least they would have had it been any other-ordinary-dawn.

In less than a day the Devalin gate would open, ushering the first venders into the grounds and the first day of the Fair would begin.

He ought to have felt relived.

But he didn't.

Nor did he feel glad that in two weeks this little experiment with Sarah Williams would come to its conclusion. He was no closer to understanding her, or the way her mind worked than he had been at the start of this sorry mess. But he did not feel disappointed either.

All he felt was tired.

Augusta's words echoed, artificially loud to his ears as they reverberated over and over inside his mind, 'you can't earn a gift…it has to be given…".

_Damn._

She was right, of course. Augusta usually was. She didn't offer her opinions on the lives of others often; she felt it would be a misuse of her gifts, but when she did she was without fail, dead on. His thoughts brooded over their conversation, no matter how he tried to put it from his mind.

A long time later, Jareth left his sisters wing. He tried to recapture the feeling of freedom he'd had while they'd planned out the week, but found it impossible. The conversation at dinner had revolved around the politics of the fair. Tomorrow the markets would open, the plays would begin, and the kings and nobles would begin their talks. He wandered outside the castle, no real destination in mind and stopped outside his own tent, admiring the gilt poles with the stylized dragon heads at the top.

Gavin had ordered guards set around the royal tent that night, raised in practice for when it would be set up at the fair itself, and good practice for the actual fair when such guards would be necessary. One of the goblin sentries paused in his rounds to salute him.

"Will ye be retiring now, milord?" he asked

Jareth sighed, "No, not yet."

"Very good, yer majesty." he saluted again, and continued on his way, pacing the rounds in that waddling step that the goblins all seemed to share.

Jareth found his thoughts returning to a Fair long passed, when he had been watched far less formally, the real attention centered on his brother. He was no longer able to wander where he pleased. All eyes would be on him, his words measured, his every gesture commented on. What he had once found exhilarating, now seemed stifling; he wasn't at all pleased with the difference.

Changing course, he turned and headed down to the river that snaked its way through the gardens and eventually turned underground, passing beneath the city itself, and stood gazing down at the black water. The moon had not yet risen, so the feeble starlight shone down from behind wispy clouds as the only illumination. Farther up the bank, deeper shadows marked where the trees began.

He shivered, reacting to the strange chill in the late night air that flowed off the water. He wasn't meant for such places, he told himself. He'd been made for the bone searing heat of the south, the harsh winter wind off the desert that could strip a mans flesh. The easy abundance of this place made him nervous right down to his bones, and Jareth knew that no matter how long he'd lived there it always would. He shivered again, thought not from the chill before turning back up the slope.

The simple shift of position saved his life. A fingers breath from his ribs, the air suddenly hissed with the sound of a passing knife. He dropped instantly to a crouch, making as small a target of himself as possible, boot knife in hand as his eyes scanned the darkness. A second knife followed, missing his head by a inches. Jareth swore silently, cursing his fair hair that shone even in the moonless night. The nearest cover was twenty paces up the slope, all he could do was become a shadow like any other.

Birds cried their alarm and small animals chattered furiously as their nest was disturbed, Jareth stayed crouched, listening as the sounds of the night resumed around him before he rose. Though he presented an easy target now the night was free of knives. He waited a moment, then searched the riverbank, feeling his way along the rich loam near the shore before his hand came to rest on what he was searching for. The knife was planted in the soft ground, angled down; the assassin had anticipated his defense. Jareth ran his fingers over the cool, smooth blade and choked on a gasp, it was not northern Fae steal as he had expected, but glass; hollow…such a wound was always mortal. There would have been no blade to remove, the glass would shatter, releasing whatever poison the owner of the weapon had chosen.

He hid it with his own, tucked neatly into the top of his boot and returned to his tent. Michael dosed by a lamp in the corner, and was unaware of his masters departure and subsequent return. Jareth held the blade up to the light and was unsurprised to see the characteristic notch in the blade, meant to catch the victims flesh when he went to remove it.

He smiled. So, the Elderich meant to warn him, did they?

The Elderich, the name brought a dark glint to his eyes as he remembered darker years from the past. They had come to power before he had inherited the Labyrinth, dark and hungry they had done their best to burn the world to ash and nearly succeeded at it. It was Jason's own sacrifice that had kept them from it. They were the shadows of a race long dead, their magick twisted and broken, they survived by feeding on the magick of the living.

He tucked the knife deep in his saddle bags where they wouldn't be found. They wanted him nervous, suspicious, in the hopes that he would make careless mistakes. He smiled again. This new problem, combined with all the others only added to the excitement welling in his blood, eagerness for the coming battles of wit and nerve. If the Elderich had meant to frighten him they had failed.

And that, he realized was his own problem in a nutshell. He had meant to cow the girl into obedience. But Sarah Williams was not the sort of person to be easily frightened. If he wanted to win her, he would have to try something else. Augusta's words floated to the surface of his mind again,

"…_it has to be given_…"

A wry grin split his features. She was right, and he knew exactly the gift for the job.

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(A/N) Hope you guys liked it, cause it was all kinds of fun to write! Anyway, I'm sending out a request for names, both male and female(all those Fae nobles I mentioned) as I've could use some new ideas. So if you've got any ideas, send me a message or a review…

shameless self promotion


	10. An Honest Situation

(A/N) - Again, I apologize for taking so long to get this up. (Gimme a break, I just started college.) anyway, here it is. (just a short little thing, but the next one's almost finished ) Hope you like it…let me know either way…hint-hint-wink-wink-nudge-nudge Also this is entirely from Augusta's POV.

(Syr - sounds like 'Sear')

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any part of the Labyrinth, I am only inspired by it, which is good because imagination doesn't require me to pay rent.**

(I really don't think I'd like to have Jareth in the role of 

my landlord…)

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CHAPTER VI - An Honest Situation

**A**ugusta crouched atop a knoll in the tall summer grass, silently watching the bustling encampment below. A gentle breeze tugged at her unbound hair, bringing with it the scent of the Pear River. The sun's rays falling bright behind her transformed her into another nameless shadow on the hill--a trick her desert bred husband had taught her. 

She watched the activity below where nearly ninety tents formed five neat little enclaves of color. The basic layout was the same for each miniature camp; the King's pavilion tent in the center with rings of smaller tents sprawling outward from the first, like ripples in a pond, for the attendants and vassals each had brought with him. Her own pavilion--a giant monstrosity crafted from blue Dorvali silk edged in gold that had been Jason's last extravagant purchase before his death--occupied a good portion of the western bank.

She combed her fingers through the lush grass, judging its moisture as the daughter of a farming lord had been taught to do. Aside from the carefully cultivated pastures of the stable yard, no real grass grew within the Goblin Kingdom that had been her home for more than half her life. Recognizing an instinct unused since childhood, Augusta smiled.

Several colors were missing from the array before her.

The maroon of Great Rowan would be placed to one side of her own blue with Jareth's purple and grey on the other, just as the Rowan Plains bordered the Goblin Kingdom and Syr.

Likewise her brothers tents wouldn't arrive until he himself did later that afternoon, but his emblem¾ a sword and crystal on a purple field¾ was already unfurled beside her own golden pear; a powerful reminder to all assembled that she shared his full authority.

Izenfae's white silk was also absent; Titania would show up when and where she damn well pleased, as always. Augusta had made certain that several choice slots had been left open for the queen, but aside from that there was little she could do.

She smiled in anticipation of the intricate dance that would take place over the course of the next few days. Aside from the gaming and sales that would take place, the Fair was also the time when the treaties from previous years were revisited, reworded when necessary and renewed by all. Alliances were formed, plans were laid in motion for large scale trades and public projects in the year to come, disputes were brought before the council and solutions, or at least the beginnings of them, were found. It was also the place where the youth of the highborn Fae, who were not already promised, were expected to find their future partners.

She snorted. It was a ridiculous concept, throwing twenty or thirty young people together for a few days, in an environment that was as artificial as the smiles their elders wore, and expecting them to learn enough about each others character to choose a life partner. No wonder so many young men and women were actually relived to learn of an arranged marriage; at least that way they could know exactly what was expected of them and what to expect in return.

She reclined in the thick grass, musing on her own situation. The bustling hum of activity below was a pleasant offset to the hum of the river water. She and Jason had been lucky. They had met in a war; as honest a situation as any she could ask for. They spent the better part of two months trooping across the low scrub hills, and arid sand flats of the northwestern borderlands between Syr and the Goblin Kingdom, eradicating what was left of the Gothnowyn raiding parties that had swept through the lower kingdoms earlier that year. Everyone in both parties was equally dust covered, sweat-soaked and bone tired, the idea of trying to impress anyone would have been ludicrous. But somehow, without even trying, he _had _made an impression-albeit a temporarily bad one.

He'd appeared out of nowhere, arrogantly shouting orders, demands for various explanations, and insisting that they had overstepped their rights by entering Goblin land. He was blond, loud, grinning like a mad-man; Augusta had taken an instant dislike to him. Especially considering that they were actually still in Syr…

With neither willing to back down, the two camps had been combined into a single, sprawling train of barely controlled chaos. "After all," He'd insisted, "with both our resources combined we can leave twice as fast."

He'd grated on her nerves, his ever lurking arrogance even more so, but in a weird sort of way, their combined personalities just worked. They balanced each other and found that they really did get things done twice as fast and with half the hassle. Despite the short tempers, and miserable environment, and his own special brand of arrogance that put even Jareth's to shame, she had discovered she was actually growing to _like_ the bastard.

In fact, she'd liked him enough to invite him back to Syr that fall for the Pear Blossom Festival. A smile played across her features. Yes, that had been a summer…

The beautiful pear trees that Syr was famous for were tended by a veritable army of ground keepers, who kept the trees in order and facilitated an easy harvest. That year, however, there was an uprising among the lower class-the reason for which escaped her-and the orchards had been left unattended for the first time in memory.

With no one to tend the pear trees, the carefully cultivated orchards were left to grow wild that year. More than a hundred square measures of groves along the Pear River had run riot; the fruit and blossoms of innumerable trees, swollen and sweet, graced the waters of the Pear. Left to run the river's course under the sweltering heat of Syran high summer rather than the course to market, they fermented in the clear waters, turning the river to gold and spreading the scent of pear wine over half the continent. In later years it would be said that, in that fateful summer, the fish of Brochwell bay had swum willingly to the fishers nets, drunk on pear wine from the swollen rivers' tide.

Even now, so far down stream, she fancied she could catch the faint scent of pear blossoms on the breeze. Impossible of course. The orchards were now well in hand-she'd made certain of it after the fortune she'd lost-but each year, the remains of the blossoms and the pears that were damaged and thus unsuitable for sale were emptied into the Pear River in testament to that summer.

She smiled again.

It had taken a long time before she could think about the good things without remembering the end to it all. But if things progressed according to plan-if they could actually pull this off-Jason's dream of a lasting peace, of permanent ties to the mortal world, would become reality.

"Soon, my love…" she whispered, "very soon."

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(A/N) I know, it's short. But I hope to have the next bit up within the week…(because I get things done _sooo_ fast…lol) I hope it explained a few of the flash backs too.


	11. Chapter 11

So it's been five years since this story has been updated, and quite a lot has happened in that time. In the last few years I've gotten married, had a baby finished my doula certification and begun midwifery training. And even after all that I STILL can't get this damn thing out of my head.

I came across a rough draft for the next chapter a few days ago and realized that I wanted to start it up again. But with a few changes. I'd just turned sixteen when I started writing this fic and certain places don't flow like they seemed to then, and others seem a little trite or marry-sue-ish to me now. Over the next week or two I plan to go back over the previously posted chapters and give it a little face lift. Then post chapter 11 and (hopefully 12, 13, etc) from there.

I'm going to try to get serious with the updating but my work schedule with two jobs and a baby is erratic – I doubt it will be more than once a month but at LEAST once a month is my goal. For anyone who is still sticking with this, bear with for the next week or two and I promise you a chapter by the 15th of next month. M'k?

Thanks for the reviews, views, and continuing support!  
Kerridwyn


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